


Binding Contract

by corvusiel



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Assassin!AU, Healthy Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines, Healthy Relationships, Hitman!AU, Human!Bill, Multi, Slow Burn, assassin!bill, hitman!bill, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:51:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvusiel/pseuds/corvusiel
Summary: A contract killer’s job always ought to be impersonal, for the sake of getting the hit done quickly and efficiently. Bill Cipher, however, considers himself to be above this rule. Or rather, his heart does, setting its sights on a certain Dipper Pines.





	1. Plans

**Author's Note:**

> hi !!! this is my first multi-chapter fic and not just drabble !! please be patient with me along the story as i'm very new to writing a long story, and i don't have a beta, sadly ;w; i'll be adding tags as i go along, cause i don't have all details set in stone yet. i do have a basic storyline planned out though !! i hope you guys like this !!! <3

It would be an easy assignment, like all the others. Locate, aim, fire, leave. The task would be completed within minutes. Bill wasn’t exactly humble, but he had no reason to be either. Years of experience in fields that few people dared to enter had earned him a respected reputation of fluid efficiency. No careless mistakes, messy traces, or suspicious witnesses were ever left behind. Anybody in his place would develop a bit of an ego sooner or later. But then again, it was amusing to imagine that anybody could work like he did. That was something he made sure of.

But alas, the perfect hit required the perfect plan. And a perfect plan wasn’t something that could be achieved within minutes. Thinking this to himself, Bill let his head slump into his crossed arms. A heavy huff escaped him, sending the loose papers on his desk flying. He’d been at this same old wooden desk for days now. The only breaks he’d had were to shower and sleep (if ‘sleep’ meant 10-15 minutes of bothersome shut-eye), plus the occasional granola bar, which he told himself was healthy enough, despite the chocolate chips buried amongst the oats and nuts. 

Planning didn’t ever take this long with his previous jobs. In fact, the usual process was so brief, it could hardly be called “planning”. Bill had his sources and contacts, he always knew where to look and ask. Plus, all clients were required to provide details. It was either doing the research so that Bill could carry out the hit efficiently or going to some second-rate nobody who’d probably screw the pooch. Murder sans consequence didn’t come cheap. But this time, Bill hadn’t imagined spending days trying to figure out how on earth to carry out this assignment. For all the Pines family’s fame, they were more elusive and detached than most. Especially the target. The dossier given by the contractor, an unusually upbeat man with horrendous platinum blond hair, laid out a basic profile of Stanford Pines, alongside a note warning that he was not to be confused with his twin brother, Stanley Pines.

Bill rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands, determined to grind away the fatigue that had been building up. Bringing his hands away from his face, he gazed wearily back at the papers and maps all strewn across his desk. He rubbed at his eyes again, then yawned. 

_ This isn’t going anywhere, _ the blond thought. His mouth opened for another yawn, which then melted into a stale sigh. Deep golden eyes were once again dragged back to the desk, with a look that was close to a mixture of exasperation and disappointment. Leaning forward, Bill stared long and hard at all the information he’d been trying to absorb and synthesize together for the past few days. He saw the words, the diagrams, the photos, but the lightbulb just refused to go off.

Mindless staring eventually soured into mindless glowering after another half hour. With a rough kick, Bill shoved his chair away from the desk and stood up to make his way to the bathroom. Once inside, he peeled off his dead weight clothes and stepped into the shower. A turning of the knob quickly prompted warm water to flow over Bill’s shoulders, taut from hunching over the desk. If he was being honest with himself, there wasn’t much need for a shower - one rarely accumulated enough dirt if they’d been staying indoors all day. Nonetheless, Bill reached for the lemon-scented shampoo that stood on the shelf and smoothed it into his hair, working up a lather. 

Memories drifted into Bill’s head. Memories of his first assignment, brought back by the one he was working on currently. He felt the same frustration, the same sensation of having reached a brick wall. But back then, he was inexperienced. It was understandable. As understandable as a hitman’s job could get, anyway. Sighing, Bill rinsed away the soap suds from his hair and moved on to cleansing the rest of his body. Steam had formed close to the ceiling of the bathroom, its density a gentle caress to Bill’s thoughts. Eventually, his mind eased up and wandered away to other things. 

After a few more minutes of standing under the running water, rubbing at his skin one last time to make sure it was fully clean, Bill stepped out of the shower feeling slightly more enlivened than a few minutes ago. Lifting a fresh towel off of its rack, he wiped away the last few droplets of water and stress, then wrapped himself snugly in the towel and made his way back into his room. 

The room wasn’t particularly large, and neither was it particularly small. Although Bill’s income was much more than enough to afford a penthouse in New York, he stayed in his modest apartment down in Oakland, choosing to remain rather discreet. With a job like his, it wasn’t wise to be showy. Of course, a few luxuries never hurt. Bill’s steps were muffled on the soft fiber carpeting as he padded over to a set of pale closet doors. With a light pull, they opened to reveal a walk-in wardrobe, its sides lined with layers upon layers of all different assortments of clothing, arranged neatly into categories. The closet was rather small, but it was already a step up from having just some boring, standard closet. 

With the fatigue coming on rapidly now that he’d experienced the warmth of the shower, Bill didn’t want to be away from his bed a moment longer. The blond briskly walked over to a section of the clothes where thick sweatshirts and pants hung idly, and picked out the first thing that his eyes landed on. Putting on a maroon sweatshirt and a matching pair of sweatpants, Bill walked back out and shut the doors with a dull  _ thump. _

Once in bed, the blond felt tension leaving his body for the first time in days. He’d try again tomorrow, and he was going to get it. He could feel it. And with the hope of a finished plan the next day, the blond’s eyes fluttered shut and he promptly fell into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr // @corvusiel


	2. Speedbump

Golden eyes blinked open at the sound of ringing slicing through the still morning air. Bill groaned and sluggishly reached out an arm for his phone. Squinting in the sunlight slanting through his half-open blinds, he slid a finger across the screen, “This is Cipher,”

“Bill, we need to meet,” The man on the other end spoke curtly.

Hearing the hint of urgency in the other’s voice, the blond promptly sat up in his bed, “Right away. Location?”

“What do you think? Our usual place,”

“Ah, of course, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can,”

“Good,” And with that, the man hung up.

The phone was set back down onto the clean white sheets. Bill let out a deep breath and ran a hand through his marigold hair, tousled from sleep. He’d been hoping for a quiet morning in which he could finish planning and get this assignment over as quickly as possible. It was rather heartless to say that he’d started to grow bored of all the killing, but it was the truth. He needed a holiday or something. Maybe Paris. Or Tokyo, after all this was done.

Shaking his head clear of further thoughts, the blond got up and walked over to the bathroom. Quickly, he went through his simple morning routine of brushing and washing, then came back out and into the closet. As he combed through all the different clothes looking for a suitable outfit, he pondered what updates could have been made to this assignment. The file given to him by his go-between provided all the information he had requested from the client. He was sure of it, from all the countless re-reads he had done while trying to plan. 

_ Never mind that. He probably has a good reason to meet, _ Bill brushed away the questioning voice in his head as he brought out a pair of black denim jeans and a bomber jacket which matched in color. He decided to keep the sweatshirt on.

Clothes in hand, Bill padded back to his room to change. He swiftly shook off the sweatpants and pulled on the jeans before slipping on the bomber jacket. Briefly, he thought about fixing his mess of hair, then decided against it. These meetings never took very long. Besides, he thought with a slight smirk, he was one of the few people on this planet who could pull off the bedhead look. 

Before making his way to the main door of his apartment, Bill quickly rummaged through the kitchen cabinet. Locking eyes on what he had been looking for, the blond reached his hand in and grasped the last chocolate chip granola bar he had left. He made a mental note to buy some more later and grabbed his keys and wallet as he made his way to the doorway. The blond breezed through the door and pulled it close behind him with a small  _ click _ .

 

△▼

 

The walk from his apartment to Lake Merritt didn’t take long. In fact, the short distance was the main reason why he had picked it as a meeting place with his go-between when he first moved here. They’d needed an accessible and fast place for meetings. Plus, the scenery was an added bonus. Such a beautiful setting seemed rather ironic for a meeting place to discuss details of a profession like Bill’s, but he had merely chuckled to himself when suggesting it for the first time. 

As he stepped out of the elevator, Bill inhaled a breath of the fresh air that he’d been deprived of for the past few days. Combined with the first full night of sleep he’d had in a while, the crisp fall air renewed the stale psyche he’d been accumulating, cooped up in the walls of his apartment. With a small spring to his steps, Bill set off on the path that would take him to the park where his go-between would be waiting. 

The longer Bill spent outside, the colder the weather seemed, sending chill breeze after chill breeze down the streets and roads where Bill passed. As he walked, small shivers ran through his frame at random intervals and he found himself repeatedly pulling his measly jacket on tighter. With a breath of relief, Bill remembered the granola bar tucked away in his pocket. Maybe a little food might warm him up. As he nibbled on the chocolate filled bar, the blond thought himself lucky and clever that he had chosen the lake. Yet another reason why a close meeting place was nice. 

Approaching the park, Bill began to recognize the signature dark, scraggly hair of the man who acted as an intermediary for all his assignments. The blond chose to remain silent as he crept up behind the other man, who was seemingly unaware of Bill’s arrival as he sat on a weathered park bench.

Bill spoke with a voice loud and clear as day, “So! What’s come up, my dear friend Pax?”. At the other’s immediate startle, the blond snickered and plopped down next to him on the park bench.

“Bill, good that you could make it so promptly.” Pax quickly composed himself and regarded the blond with a curt nod. The go-between was much stouter than his eccentric employer and wore a black t-shirt with a contrasting pacifier drawing printed on it. With bloodshot eyes and skin that seemed to take on a muddy shade of gray under the pale sunlight, the man seemed like he had completely tired of the world.

“No problem, buddy. How’ve you been? Feels like I haven’t seen y-”

“This is no time for small talk.” Pax cut in, with a sharp turn of his head towards Bill. “The contractor has told me to inform you that the target’s grand-nephew, Mason Pines, has graduated and returned to Gravity Falls.”

Bill’s radiance was wiped away from his demeanor in a second. “What?”

Pax merely nodded and handed the blond a photograph. Bringing it up closer, Bill saw a girl and a boy linked arm in arm, both with chestnut brown hair and looking to be about 20. “The grand-nephew is the boy,”

Bill swatted a hand towards Pax in a gesture of irritation. “Yeah, yeah, I think I can tell for myself.” The blond inspected the photo in more detail, Pax still and silent beside him. Bill noted Mason’s meek smile, nearly overshadowed by his sister’s shining beam. Confidence was attractive, but Bill, with a thoughtful hum to himself, found Mason’s shy aura to be rather endearing. 

With a final study of the photograph, Bill pocketed it and looked back up at the other man. “Don’t graduations happen during May? Why is he only back now?” Bill’s brows furrowed as his mind began to attempt to rearrange the elements from the plan he’d been working on to fit in this new factor.

“The contractor informed me that he went on a vacation. It lasted six months, and thus, he’s back now,”

Bill felt a flicker of annoyance. This was exactly why he asked all his clients to provide extensive information. “He couldn’t have told me this earlier?”

“You know those vengeful types. Always rush into things due to their desperation to have someone dead,”

Bill sniffed in disdain. “Yes, but Gleeful’s a rather big name. I would’ve expected mistakes from some amateur who’s fed up with his boss, not from someone so esteemed,”

“Either way, I am certain you will carry this out this assignment with ease. However, the contractor has noted that Mason Pines is more intelligent than average. He warns you to be careful,” 

With an indignant scoff, Bill blew a stray lock of hair away from his eyes. “Everybody’s ‘better than average’ these days. Gleeful’s got nothing to worry about, it’s just some kid with a degree,” Bill smirked at the other. “So, anything else?”

“No. That is all,”

“Alrighty, then. See you around, Pax.”

“Best of luck,”

“Won’t be needing it.” The blond grinned at Pax and began on his way back home. Looking up at the sky, he wondered what time it was. The meeting hadn’t felt very long, but he could never tell. Time perception had never come very naturally to him. Ironic, considering it was a much-needed skill for a contract killer. Nonetheless, the blond always did fine without it. He reached into his pocket, but then cursed at himself when he remembered that he had left his phone at home. 

On his way back, Bill stopped by the small store that stood right across his apartment building. The past few days spent at home had left his cabinets and fridge barren, save for some random sauce packets. With a piercing  _ ding _ , the door to the grocery store opened and closed as Bill moved from the cool air of the outside to the pleasant warmth of the interior. The blond didn’t think twice about where he needed to go to get the foodstuffs he was looking for. He knew the aisles off by heart, having visited the store regularly for groceries since he moved here years ago. 10 minutes later, and Bill was stepping out of the store with a recycle bag stuffed full with tomatoes, eggs, and vegetables, among other foods, which included three boxes of chocolate chip granola bars.

All groceries were immediately sorted into their respective places in the kitchen as soon as Bill got home. He was never one for disorganization. Making his way back to his desk, Bill thought back to Mason Pines, the 20 year old with the ruffled chestnut hair and chocolate eyes. Then his mind snapped back to the assignment. The blond shook his head, determined to get back to the plan. Especially now that a new factor had been introduced. God, the incompetence of contractors frustrated him to no end. First, he had to deal with an almost-invisible CEO of a tech company, and now his grand-nephew’s returned? Bill sighed harshly to himself, burying a hand in his hair. With the other hand, he clicked on his phone and glanced at the screen. 10am and he was already mad.

_ No, no. Maybe this is a good thing. _ Bill paused in his whirlwind of thoughts. Slowly coming to a multitude of new ideas, the blond brought out fresh sheets of paper and furiously began to draw, scribble, and reference. 

Mason Pines wasn’t an obstacle. He was an aid.

In a matter of a few hours, an outline with basic steps, diagrams, and maps laid spread out on the desk in front of Bill. He’d fill in all the details when he got there. For now, it was time to pay Gravity Falls a little visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh cookies to anyone who can work out which gfalls character i morphed Pax from uwu


	3. Job Opportunities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update !!! i've been kinda stuck lately but i finally figured it out !!! enjoy the chapter <3 <3

Not much filled the duffel bag Bill had prepared for the trip to the quaint little town by the name of Gravity Falls. A few outfits, toiletries, most things standard, except for the gun and the photo of Mason. He didn’t expect to stay there very long. He estimated a week and a half, at most. If everything went smoothly and as planned, by the end of this week, Stanford Pines would be dealt with and Bill would take his money and go on vacation. Simple as that. The mere prospect almost made Bill excited again to be involved in this line of work. Each job gave him a paycheck of nearly 200 thousand dollars. Not bad at all.

Looking around his room one final time, Bill checked for anything he might’ve missed. It didn’t happen very often - his small apartment didn’t hold many things - but once in a blue moon something would be left behind. After a few more seconds, Bill, now convinced that he was ready, gave a minute nod to himself and hoisted up the small, honey-tinted bag onto his shoulder. He made his way to the door, relaxed and confident, demeanor much different from the one that was slumped over his being just a few days ago.

Before the assignment, he’d never heard of a place called Gravity Falls. From what Gleeful had told him about the CEO who lived and worked there, Bill expected the town to have a similar impression as that of Silicon Valley or something. He shrugged away the thought. It didn’t hold much significance to him anyway. Humming a little tune to himself, Bill made his way over to a parking lot space, which held a black, compact car. The blond tugged open the car door and seated himself inside, tossing the bag onto the seat next to him. With a muffled rumble, the engine started up and he was soon on his way. 

The first few minutes were silent, save for the smooth thrum of the engine working away. Bill reached out a hand and twisted the volume knob, prompting a combination of guitar strings and bumping basslines to stir through the space. With a sigh, Bill leaned back into the soft cushion of his seat, hands lazily stirring the wheel as he navigated his way around Oakland. He hadn’t used his car in ages. There lingered a faint smell of plastic lemon, the type of generic citric smell that came with gas station air fresheners. He made a mental note to buy a new freshener. 

Bill let himself relax. It would be a long drive– roughly 9 hours before he arrived in Gravity Falls. He might as well save himself from cramp. As the first song slowly faded into the second one, the blond started to sing along, lightly.

 

△▼

 

The alarm that was set to remind him to leave had rung nearly half an hour ago. And yet Dipper was still trying to stuff his laptop into a worn-out, black canvas backpack. After a hasty zip and a few curse words, the brunet flung the bag onto his shoulders and was out of the house in a second, nearly tripping over himself as he ran down the front steps and onto the dirt pathway.

_ What the hell, what the hell, what the hell _ , Dipper repeatedly cursed in his head as he rushed over to an old, hand-me-down convertible. Red paint had long peeled off the sides of what his grand-uncle Stan used to call the ‘Stanmobile’, but Dipper hadn’t bothered to get it repainted. After all, a car was for functionality, not for looks. Briefly, the brunet fumbled with the keys before finally unlocking its doors. Yanking open its rusty metal door, he climbed into the driver’s seat before slamming the door close again. The worn convertible coughed and sputtered in the several seconds it took to start up, and the sounds persisted well after Dipper began on his way. In silence, he suffered through the car’s constant metal grumbling, unable to drown out the sounds with music, for the audio player had been broken ever since Mabel had tried to “see how loud we can play Africa by Toto before Pacifica notices”.

Gravity Falls was not a large town, and it was for that reason that Stanford Pines had prefered to station his work in a more secluded place, away from the friendly but distracting hum of the town during daylight hours. The way to the headquarters of PinesLabs, Inc. was elaborate and hard to follow. Luckily, Dipper had planned for all this a week in advance. It was too bad he hadn’t made a backup plan in case of oversleeping, which he realized all too late was very possible.

Dipper ran a sweaty hand over his face and sighed. Looking back at the map that was now spread out on the seat beside him, the brunet carefully followed the paths and roads that he had marked out earlier. Several summers had been spent in Gravity Falls, and he and Mabel had become familiarized with its sprawling woodland, but he didn’t wish to make a single mistake. The very least he could do now was to avoid getting lost. 

The sound of buzzing and the blaring ringtone of those old rotary dial phones startled Dipper out of his concentration. Keeping his eyes on the path in front of him, Dipper blindly groped around in his backpack for the culprit of the noise. It took a few minutes before his hand finally felt the familiar plastic casing and pulled his phone out of the bag. On it shone the beaming face of a brunette, who sported glittery pink ribbons in her mess of chocolate brown curls. Sliding a finger across the cold glass screen, Dipper held the phone up to his ear. “Hey, Mabel. What’s up?”

“Nothing much! Just checking in on how the fancy new job’s going!”

Dipper chuckled, spirits immediately lifted by his sister’s voice with its candied tone and honeyed lilt. “Thanks, but I’m… actually kind of late right now,”

Mabel burst into light laughter. “The ‘always prepared’ Dipper Pines  _ late _ to his first day of work? You must be pretty embarrassed right now, mister,”

“Hey, at least I tried,” Dipper half-rolled his eyes and smiled. 

Mabel’s grin was clear in her voice. “Okay, okay, that’s fair.” In the brief pause that followed, Dipper heard a faint voice on the other end, but Mabel continued talking.

Dipper subtly cleared his throat, hoping to signal his sister. “Was that Pacifica?”

“Oh yeah, shoot. We have a brunch thing before my first class. Okay, gotta go. G’luck at the job, bro bro!”

“Thanks, Mabel. Oh, say hi to Pacifica for me, will you?”

“Sure, talk to you later!”

Dipper’s smile remained on his face as his sister ended the call with a signature ‘womp’. God, was it refreshing to talk to her. It’d only been a few months since they last saw each other at Dipper’s graduation, but Mabel had started her final year at design school in August and that now meant less phone calls. He guessed it was healthy for siblings to spend some time apart, but with the coldness he’d been receiving from their parents ever since coming out, being clingy was a given. And Mabel was never one to turn down a simple phone call or meetup.

Before Dipper had more time to think about the events of the past few months, two towering buildings soon appeared in the glass of his windshield. The brunet had seen the headquarters before, in photos on the company’s website, in visits, even, but the grandeur of the labs of PinesLabs never seemed to grow old. Even from a considerable distance, one couldn’t ignore the gleaming floor length windows that stood on nearly every floor of both buildings, their reflections of the sun’s rays dazzlingly blinding, or the glass bridge that connected the two buildings, its architectural design giving it the illusion of almost breaking apart when it was, in actuality, as sturdy as it’d been when it was built a few decades ago. The company’s logo, simple but easily recognizable, a dark tree with an atom etched into its silhouette, was embedded on the side of the first building. Its dark colors were stark against the silver of the building’s walls and they immediately caught the eye of any passers-by. It was evident Stanford Pines had not held back when designing his company’s laboratories.

Taking a deep breath, Dipper slowed his car down as he approached a domineering pair of electric gates, opened only through the proper identification. He’d prepared for this, Ford had told him what to do. So why were his hands trembling on the steering wheel?

A crisp buzz sounded from Dipper’s left, then a feminine voice spoke, carrying a robotic hint, “Identification, please,”

Dipper cleared his throat twice before he could speak, “Uh, hi. Mason Gabriel Pines, new employee here,” He cursed under his breath at the crack that cut through at the end of his words. 21 and still suffering the effects of pubescent awkwardness.

“Please present your ID card,”

The bag that laid on the seat next to Dipper was hastily zipped open as the brunet rummaged around for the card. Nervousness gripped his hands and almost made him drop his card as he pulled it out of the bag and presented it to what he could assume was a camera.

“The camera is to the left of where you’re pointing at, Mr. Pines,”

Dipper chuckled nervously, “Sorry about that,” The brunet shifted his card to the left and waited as a scanner ran over the barcode on his card.

A light and short beep accompanied the hidden woman’s next words. “Okay, you’re clear to go, Mr. Pines. Have a nice day,” The same electric buzz sounded before the gates in front of Dipper’s cars slowly began to part.

“Th-Thanks,” Dipper stuffed the card back into his bag and closed the window before driving through the gates, making his way down the road that led to the carpark. Once the brunet had parked the car and made sure all the doors were fully closed (they sometimes slipped open), he made his way to the front entrance, anticipation making his gait jumpy, as if hot coals were beneath his shoes.

Up close, the building looked even more impressive. Once again, Dipper took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the frantic thumping of his heart. Damn, he thought this would’ve been easier. At his first step inside the building, however, the brunet was relieved to be greeted by a familiar face, stoic warmth etched into the other man’s wrinkles.

“Dipper! I’m relieved to see you here safe. It seemed as though you may have had run into some trouble,” Stanford Pines embraced his great-nephew with a one-armed hug.

“Thanks, Grunkle Ford. I’m glad I made it here safe too,” Dipper grinned at his great uncle, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation behind the expression. 

The older man smiled back and clapped a hand on Dipper’s back, “Alright, now let’s get you to work. I trust you won’t be late again tomorrow?”

Nerves mostly calmed down now, Dipper’s resolve could be heard in his response, “Yes, absolutely not, Grunkle Ford. I won’t let you down,”

Stanford’s laugh was different to Mabel’s, hearty with a resemblance to tough redwood, but uplifting nonetheless. “My boy, I worry that you might let  _ yourself _ down, with those high standards of yours. Enough to rival mine, even!”

Dipper’s laugh in response was genuine and heartfelt. Maybe his first day wasn’t so ruined after all.


	4. Business Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey !! this is a slightly longer chapter, but as always i hope you guys enjoy. i haven't been at my best mentally this entire week, so i apologize if this chapter is a bit incoherent. if there's some parts that are too convoluted, feel free to drop a comment with a specific quote and i will try my best to edit it for easier understanding !! <3

_7:41PM_ , read the dashboard clock in small, white printed numbers. Bill lifted his hands off the steering wheel and briskly turned the key in its ignition switch. In a few seconds, the soft hum of the engine had been silenced, and the blond leaned back and closed his eyes for a few moments. The 9 hour ride had been tiring, he had never really gotten used to having to drive across states, despite the numerous jobs that had required it. Opening his eyes again, Bill stuffed the car keys into his duffel bag and began to gather up his belongings. A short distance away stood a building with neat rows of windows embedded into its walls. Erected next to that building, Bill could see, was a small office, atop its ceiling a sign that glared _TWIN BED MOTEL_ in bright neon letters. Picking up the unfinished bag of family size chex mix and his duffel bag, Bill opened the door, ready to step out, but was almost persuaded to slam it close again by the blast of cold air that he was met with.

Yanking the zipper of his cargo jacket to the top, Bill quickly rushed outside before shutting the car door. With haste in his steps, he made his way to the office and breathed a small sigh of relief as its door closed behind him, encasing him in the welcome warmth of the indoors. At the far end of the office, a man was asleep on top of what Bill could only assume was the front desk.

Bill spoke loudly, cheek clear in his voice, “I’d say you’re taking ‘sleeping on the job’ a tad too literally, pal,”

The man, who Bill now saw more clearly was drooling on a pile of papers, awakened with a yell.

“Wowza, someone had a bad dream,” Bill’s lips split into a grin. That was fun. “All I’m here for is a motel room, buddy. Not gonna kill ya,”

The blond waited, with bubbling patience, as the man came to his senses and finally spoke, though in a slurred manner. “Huh?”

“I’m here for a room,”

“Wha-? Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah, we have those,” The man coughed and sat up, sluggishly as though his torso had been rooted into the ground, “Yeah, we have some free rooms,”

Bill managed to conjure a smile through gritted teeth. “Great! I’ll take any one with a kitchen, then.”

“They all have kitchens.”

“Fantastic,” Bill was prepared to give his false credentials when the man unexpectedly held up a key. On it was a cheap label sticker that was crusted in what Bill hoped was just incredibly dark dirt.

“Enjoy your stay, dude.”

Surprise was quickly replaced with gratitude as Bill took the keys from the man. One less trace left behind. “I will, thanks!”  The duffel bag was starting to slip off his shoulder. Adjusting it so that it was now more secure, Bill exited the office, bag strap in one hand, chex mix and room key in the other.

Bill lifted the key as he crossed over to the motel rooms. Scrawled in messy pen was the number 3. The blond hummed in approval and was soon able to find the room with the corresponding number. Opening the door, he was surprised to find the room clean and livable, compared to the office. Briefly, he recalled with disgust the rat droppings he had unfortunately glanced at on his way out.

Clearly whoever planned the rooms held a strong minimalist taste. More so an area than a room, the space was so small Bill was amused to see that it could still hold a kitchen, though the kitchen in question was utterly barren. Next to the kitchen was a door to what Bill assumed was the toilet, and opposite the kitchen stood a twin bed with a writing desk beside it. The two were oddly positioned, in such a way that both of their long sides had been pushed together. The walls of the room were stark white, and opposite the door were two small windows, one of them with thin blinds drifting lazily over, and the other without. Bill wasn’t an interior designer, but he sighed in exasperation as he thought to himself, _Geez, this place could really use some redesigning._ As he moved to set down his bags on the desk, the sight of the chex mix reminded him that that was all he’d been eating for the past 9 hours, aside from the sandwich he’d had for breakfast that morning while in the car. Given that he hadn’t had one in a while, Bill decided it was time for a full meal. A home-cooked one sounded nice. The blond picked up his phone, room keys, and wallet before he left, shutting the door a little more tightly. The sight of the office and customer service didn’t give him any high expectations for the security here.

Sound asleep again was the man when Bill re-entered the office. Bill furrowed his brow at the employee’s incompetence. “Hey, pal! Is there a supermarket around here?”

And once again, the employee awoke in a state of drowsy surprise. “Oh, hey. It’s you again! The guy who wanted the kitchen! Kitchen guy!” The man then took a few minutes to turn over Bill’s words in his head. “Yeah, you wanna go to Tons. It’s around here somewhere, like, turn left from here, then it’s another left, and then, like- like, you cross diagonally.” He gestured incoherently with his arms and hands, in a futile attempt to clarify his unclarifiable directions. “And uhh… wait let me think. Oh, yeah, then you kinda look around and it should be there. Yeah. You can’t miss it. Good luck, dude, I believe in you.” The man gave a thumbs up to Bill and then leant back in his chair, pride oozing from his smile, as if he’d just saved someone from near death.

Bill’s word of thanks came out rocky, stiff, void of tangible gratitude. If this employee was any indication of what the rest of the people here were like, he was relieved to only be in town for a week. Any longer and Stanford Pines wouldn’t be the only one murdered. The blond walked back out and onto the pavement outside the motel. Despite the lampposts situated at regular intervals along the roads, it was difficult to make out shapes more than a couple of feet away. The fog seemed to be particularly thicker here, with light scattered particles hung suspended in the air like blurred snowflakes frozen in time. Bill felt a brief flare of annoyance at the motel employee and the vague instructions he had given in this sort of weather. It would’ve been better for the both of them had he left Bill with a simple shrug and an “I don’t know, dude, sorry.”

With a disgruntled huff, Bill turned and started walking left. He fully doubted that the employee’s directions held any sense of accuracy to them, but he had to start somewhere. So for the next 5 minutes, the blond blindly turned right, left, retraced some steps, crossed a few random roads, among other arbitrary actions. The trip to the supermarket that he thought would’ve been brief now felt less so.

As he was about to turn around the corner of a building, it seemed as though someone else, unfortunately, also had the same idea.

It was Bill’s first instinct to speak before he could clearly see who exactly had bumped into him. “Hey, watch where you’re going-” It was the boy from the photograph. Mason Pines, wearing a dumb blue and white hat with a tree symbol. _A baseball cap at night? What a fashion sense._

“O-Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to do that, I swear,”

The blond had simmered down in less than a second after the realization. He saw his chance and seized it with excitement, ignoring something in his head urging him to leave immediately. _No traces! Don’t get involved!_ “No, it’s fine. I’m the one who’s sorry for reacting the way I did. You okay, kid?”

Mason stammered, “Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Look, man, I’m really sorry for getting in your way. I should go. Have a nice night,”

It was clear Mason was in a rush to leave the scene, but Bill wasn’t planning on letting that happen. The words jumped out of him immediately. “Actually– I’ve never been here, could you show me where the Tons supermarket is? Please?”

The brunet stopped reluctantly, eyes shifting nervously from Bill’s to the ground then to the buildings, then back again. “Oh, uh, welcome to Gravity Falls. I guess you’re in luck, I’m headed to the store right now,”

“Mind if I tail you?” At the sight of hesitance in Mason’s stiff figure, Bill hastily added on, “I’ll be out of your hair as soon as we get there. Promise,”

“No, not-“ The brunet cleared his throat, loudly, in an attempt to distract from the fact that his previous word had just gone up in a sudden squeak. “Not at all,”

A smile tugged at the corner of Bill’s lips. “Great! Lead the way–“ Bill stopped before he could give himself away. His eyes darted to the hat then back to the brunet in a split second. “–Pinetree.”

“...Pinetree?” It took a second for the brunet to realize the inspiration for the ad lib nickname. “Oh, the hat. Uh, you can call me Dipper if you’d like,”

 _Dipper?_ “You know, kid, you really shouldn’t be giving out your name to strangers,” Bill grinned at the other man.

At that, Dipper froze, and Bill felt the need to ease his thoughts again. “Chillax, just messing with you. So how about that supermarket?”

A bit of the tension left the brunet’s shoulders as he laughed lightly. “Oh, yeah. Well, just, follow me, then,”

“No problem, I know how to follow,” Bill skipped happily alongside the brunet, and even happier at the little chuckle his comment prompted. He hadn’t expected to be so delighted to have met this kid so early on. The plan hadn't called for it, and he might even say meeting the kid so early on was dangerous for Bill himself. But who was he to question the universe? Ultimately, he decided to let it slide as a happy coincidence.

Bill’s words felt amplified by the brief silence that had fallen between them, “Name’s Bill Cipher, by the way,”

Dipper glanced at him, momentarily, as if there were consequences to looking for any longer. “Oh,” Considering his words carefully, he took a few moments before speaking again, “Are you moving here?”

“Nah, just a business trip,”

Dipper laughed lightly, “A business trip in Gravity Falls, of all places? What’re you here for?”

“Ah, as much as I would _love_ to confess everything to someone I just met, Pinetree, I don’t think I can disclose that information,” Bill grinned, “Company policy,”

“Oh, I see,” There remained a small smile on Dipper’s face, though it was facing more towards the ground than the man he was walking beside. “You’re really gonna stick with that name, aren’t you?”

Bill hummed in response.

“Alright, whatever floats your boat,”

Bill looked down at Dipper, amused. “‘Floats your boat’? Geez, kid, what decade is that from?”

Pale pink blossomed across Dipper’s cheeks. “Oh, um. It’s just something my sister says a lot. I guess I’ve kind of adopted it into my own vocabulary over time,”

It was easy to fake surprise. “You have a sister?”

“Y-Yeah. She’s not here–” Dipper paused, interrupted by the buzz of a phone. Reaching into his pocket, the brunet gave Bill an apologetic look. “Oh, speak of the devil. Sorry about this–”

“It’s cool, take your call. I’ll keep following,” Bill smiled as reassuringly as he could and took a step back so as to give the other some privacy. As Dipper answered, Bill casually noticed how eager he was to do so. The blond tried his best not to eavesdrop, and golden eyes wandered elsewhere around the town to pass the time.

Bill had tuned out the other’s phone conversation, but at the sudden rise of Dipper’s voice, golden eyes looked back at chocolate brown hair. “What? I’m not speaking that quietly.” Dipper cleared his throat.

Bill noticed his next words were spoken at a lower volume than before.

“Y-Yeah, it’s just this guy I’m showing to Tons … I don’t know? Kind of? Oh my god, Mabel, never mind, that’s not the point … You know I don’t do that stuff.” Dipper turned to give another apologetic look before quickly turning back again. “That’s very funny, Mabel. I’m rolling on the ground with laughter … Alright, alright, shhh … Hey, don’t you have an assignment to be finishing up? Something about a fashion show? Sounds really important, you know. Maybe you should work on that instead … You know, as much as I _love_ having you messing around in my stuff, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to sit this one out … I’ll be _fine_. And, by the way, how did we even get to this? … Wait, I never said that.”

Though Bill had lagged behind the other even more, the voice on the other end remained audible: a feminine one, excited and bubbly. From what he gathered of Dipper’s persona so far, he figured it was a miracle that the younger man had been able to keep up with his more extroverted sibling for so long. Lightly, the blond chuckled to himself. The Pines family was turning out to be rather interesting, and he’d only met one member so far. _You’re not going to meet more, though,_ Bill tried to remind himself.

It wasn’t until his ears caught Dipper’s goodbye to his sister that Bill had noticed they’d arrived at the supermarket. Heading through the automatic doors together, Dipper smiled at Bill before pulling out a cart and stepping deeper inside the store. “This was actually… fun. See you around town, Bill.”

“Thanks for the company, kid. And I’m sure you will,” The blond grinned and moved to get a cart of his own, all the while watching the back of Dipper disappear into one of the aisles. And he was right, every few minutes, he’d catch the tousled brown hair in one of the aisles, the brunet reaching up to grab some food item off shelves that were too high or leaning into the cart to organize its contents. The first few times Bill had been prepared to crack a joke or help out, but soon he’d realized just how much he’d embedded himself into the brunet’s memory, and at the end, decided it was better to leave their interaction at just that; an interaction. He was here to do a job, not to make friends. Even if the potential friend was pretty damn cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i currently don't have a set posting schedule, as my life is all sorts of wild. but i'd say it'll definitely be a while before the next chapter, as i'm going to a summer program in a few days. maybe expect a little more than 2 weeks for the next chapter !! in the meantime, you can read some of my other fics, if you'd like <3


	5. Rush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof i hope no one's stopped reading this, haha. thank you guys for being so patient. i know i said it would take 2 weeks for the next chapter but unfortunately, things got out of hand. i do hope you all enjoy this chapter though! <3

Phone calls from Mabel came at the same frequency as before, but now with an additional question per call about the curious blond Dipper had met last night. The phone had grown warm against Dipper’s ear as he got out of his car and locked the doors. Having had to get up earlier than usual, Mabel had decided it’d be a good idea to call. All the more unfortunate for her brother, as the call had lasted the entirety of the ride from the Mystery Shack to the labs of PinesLabs, plus a little more. Mabel’s love of talking had clearly stayed with her as she grew older.

“As much as I’d love to entertain you for another half hour longer, I have work now.” Dipper half-smiled as he started making his way towards the giant glass doors.

“ _Psh_ , work shmork. Of course I know that, what do you take me for?”

“Alright. Just giving you the heads up before I hang up.”

“Wait, wait, wait! Okay, okay, before you go, promise me you’ll talk to him again. If you see him.”

“Mabel, I think he’s busy enough. I probably won’t see him again.”

“But if you _do_ see him?”

“Okay, Mabel.” Dipper took in an exaggerated deep breath and stopped in his tracks for a moment. “There’s like a _1% chance_ that I’ll see him again. If I do see him, I’ll talk to him. Is that enough?”

Mabel put on her ‘aged wise man with lots of tales to tell’ voice and responded, “It’s a small town, dear brother. It’s a small town.”

And before Dipper could say goodbye, rolling his eyes as he usually did, Mabel hung up.

If Dipper was being honest with himself, the man he met last night, ‘Bill Cipher’, stirred as much intrigue in him as it did in his sister. But the brunet shook his head at himself as he scanned through the doors to the main lab, sadly amused by the large possibility of never seeing that man again. Besides, he reminded himself, it wasn’t as if he himself were to stay in Gravity Falls permanently either. A relationship where both partners were due to separate? That was a disastrous heartbreak waiting to happen. Dipper had better and more worthwhile things to dedicate his time to. Like the job he was at right now, for one.

With a little help from Stanford, Dipper had gotten the new internship more easily than most, considering PinesLabs didn’t offer internship opportunities. As a result, Ford had been careful not to show any other signs of nepotism towards his grand nephew. On his first day, Dipper was shown to a standard workspace, small and unassuming, and it was made explicitly clear to the brunet that his next few weeks would only consist of shadowing and assisting other employees while they went on with their own various experiments, projects, and inventions.

As soon as Dipper entered into the lab, a middle aged man hastily walked up to him, shaggy hair the color of oak wood, with gray streaks running through. “Great to see you here so early, compared to yesterday! Listen, I was kept up all night redrawing the entire blueprint, and I think it might just work this time. I’ll need your help in the lab. Immediately.”

“Good morning, Mr. McGucket,” said Dipper. “Sure, just give me a second to settle in and I’ll be right with you. Is that good?” The brunet smiled at the older man and began to take off his coat.

“Not a problem. But don’t take too long. We’ve got a lot of work to do.” Fiddleford rushed back through the opaque sliding doors, tangible excitement buzzing in his stride.

Draping his coat over the back of his chair and arranging his backpack so it hung delicately on top, the brunet took a deep breath. It merely took a day working here to see that all the employees were constantly whizzing about and fully absorbed in their work. Every project was an important one. But Dipper didn’t complain, especially given that he was working with Fiddleford McGucket, who’s so far proved to be the most wildly enthusiastic and fun to work with. Though their first encounter years ago at a family and friends gathering had left Dipper feeling a little ruffled, Ford had reassured him that McGucket’s madness was what powered his genius. They just had to be a little careful when handing him equipment, was all. The inventor’s brain might still churn out the brightest ideas, but his hands had gotten shaky over the years.

A small beep sounded, signaling the acceptance of Dipper’s ID card. The sliding doors closed behind the brunet as he stepped through, into McGucket’s section of the lab. The inventor was seen flitting from one workbench to another, already immersed into the day’s work. Fiddleford’s hair shifted as he glanced up. “Good, you’re here. Allow me to review the new plans with you.”

Quickly, Dipper grabbed his lab coat off its hook and made his way over to Fiddleford’s side. As the inventor pointed out and explained all the different elements in a complex drawing, laid out on the spotless tabletop, Bill Cipher was nudged to the back of the brunet’s head. But, a few times each hour, Dipper’s thoughts would unintentionally return, back to that aureate hair and perpetual grin.

 

△▼

 

It was apparent Bill had been wrong about the supposed cleanliness of the motel room. The blond didn’t know how or when, but, as he made his way over to the kitchen to make dinner, the faint sound of crinkling and scratching traveled to his ears. And he’d heard that sound before, recognized its source. How could he not? The few years spent in his first dingy shared apartment, with its leaky taps and invasive rust, was enough experience dealing with the shifty eyes and long, creeping tails of what he suspected was eating up his food at this moment.

The doors to the cabinet were slammed open. At the same moment, piercing squeaks filled the stale air as four rats with ashen fur scurried out of the cabinet, leaving behind them the leftover ingredients from last night’s dinner, ripped apart, edible confetti. Bill stood statue still as the rats all scattered in numerous directions, the sound of claws hitting wood scratching at the blond’s ears. He made a half-hearted move to catch one of the rodents, and when it inevitably escaped, he turned back to the cabinet and what was left over of its ravaged contents. A hole had been chewed through the plastic box containing tomatoes, and the avocados were laid on their sides. A few of them had small chunks missing. Precisely 11 pieces of lettuce were scattered throughout the bottom of the cabinet. The bag of chex mix had been tipped over, but most of its contents had remained uneaten, to Bill’s surprise. The blond wondered whether he was ever going to finish that bag of chex mix. And whether chex mix was something rats were picky about.

Bill ran a hand through his hair before starting to take out all the foods, inspecting each to sort out anything that was still worth salvaging, then deciding none of them were. He opened another cabinet and carefully took out a plate, placing it beside the sink. Sliding a knife out of one of the drawers, Bill cut up the tomatoes, avocados, and lettuce into slices in smooth, quick motions before setting them out on the plate. The blond dropped the knife into the sink and washed up, hopeful that the rats would be deterred from taking his food now that they had their own.

It was just a shame that he was now out of food to eat.

Bill reached into his pocket. Harsh light lit up his face as he turned on his phone, swiping over to the navigation app. His experience with the employee at the office last night taught him that searching online was the smarter choice. He pondered why he hadn’t gone straight to that option last night.

Gravity Falls didn’t have many restaurants, but it didn’t matter, since all Bill was looking for was a small place to quickly get some food before returning to the motel to finish up his plan. If he could get it finished tonight, he could perform the kill tomorrow, and get out by midnight. The thought of returning back to the cozy apartment back in Oakland spurred him, or at least he thought it should’ve. Why didn’t the thought of going home make him happier? The blond shook his head and tried to concentrate on finding a restaurant.

As he randomly swiped past all the restaurants, a particularly highly-rated diner caught his attention. _Greasy’s Diner?_ the blond questioned the name of the diner, but its ratings told him something different. A small diner sounded perfect, actually, now that he thought about it. Satisfied that he found a restaurant, Bill slipped into his jacket and stuffed his wallet into one of the pockets. As he made his way out of the motel, he hoped that he might be able to catch Dipper again. And though the nature of his assignment should’ve prompted guilt or shame or embarrassment for that thought, it was difficult to muster anything other than optimism.

As he walked along the dim streets, it turned out that finding the way to Greasy’s Diner was easier when the person giving the directions wasn’t dead in the brain. Bill made a silent vow to never ask another human being for directions again. Except for one. As long as he’d let Bill talk to him.

The diner wasn’t very far away, thankfully. Bill guessed the benefit of living in a small town was that everything was packed tightly together. The smell of food–bacon and beef prominent among all the other fragrances–made him quicken his pace. The last thing he had eaten was a tuna salad, and that was 7 hours ago. Hurriedly, Bill reached the entrance and pushed the door open.

Dipper was the first thing to catch his eye as he entered the diner. Under the warm lights of the lanterns hanging off the ceiling, the brunet seemed to glow. A plate with a half-eaten burger and fries sat in front of him, but he was ignoring them, face buried between the yellowed pages of a thick book.

Mentally, Bill could barely suspend his glee. He walked over to the booth, self-assured and eager. “Fancy seeing you here, Pinetree!”

“What–Oh! Hey.” Brown eyes looked up and stared, stunned, into marigold ones. Dipper folded a corner of the page he was on and set the book down beside the plate. Suddenly, he found it incredibly difficult to speak real, English words. And had Mabel finally learned how to do magic? Or was he _just_ that lucky to see Bill again?

“Did you miss me?” Bill grinned.

“Uh, I-uh…”

The blond’s face pulled a fake frown, sticking his bottom lip out dramatically. “Wow, I’m genuinely hurt, Pinetree. I really am.” In a second, his grin fluttered back. “Just messing with you. Mind if I sit here?”

“No, not at all,” Dipper responded. The brunet stopped himself just as he realized he was moving over to make room. Maybe he was being paranoid, but Bill’s eyes seemed to have caught the miniscule movement. If he did, though, he showed no sign of it, to Dipper’s relief. He simply slipped into the seat opposite Dipper. The brunet now felt nervous to take another bite of his burger, with Bill’s eyes boring into him.

Bill spoke up, “Some rats just ate up all my food, so I’m kind of starving here, Pinetree. If you’re not going to finish those fries, I just might.” The blond had a teasing expression on his face, with his chin resting atop his hands. His liquid gold gaze settled itself on Dipper.

The brunet could start to feel dampness on his hands. “Um, I-I’m planning to finish the burger but you can have the fries, if you want. They’re not that filling, though, so you might want to order something else for yourself.” He quickly pinned on an afterthought, “I recommend the coffee pancakes. I-I know it’s like 7 right now, but trust me, they’re good.”

“Is that so?” Bill raised an eyebrow playfully and picked up a fry from Dipper’s plate. “Well, I guess I should take it from a seasoned local, then.” Calling a waiter over, the blond proceeded to order exactly what Dipper had said.

Dipper waited for the waiter to leave before speaking again, “You know, I actually didn’t expect to see you again. Thought you were too caught up with your job.”

“I know! What a coincidence, huh? A good one, though.” Bill took another fry. “Actually, I’m almost done with my work. In fact, if I’m lucky, I’ll be out of here by Thursday morning.” Dipper noticed Bill’s last sentence didn’t hold the same enthusiasm as his previous words, for someone who didn’t seem to be enjoying his time in a town like Gravity Falls.

“That’s… pretty quick. You sure you’ve done everything thoroughly?” Dipper smiled and attempted to project the same playful energy as Bill did, despite the sweaty palms and the shoe tapping rapidly against the floor.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure, kid. I know my stuff.”

“Don’t you wanna stay in Gravity Falls a bit longer? I don’t know, go exploring and stuff?” Dipper knew the things he was saying had implications, but he found he couldn’t stop talking. “We have some really great forests here.”

“Some really great forests, you say?” Bill laughed, “Geez, kid, if you really want me to stay that bad, maybe come up with a better excuse.”

“Sorry, I meant–“ Dipper cleared his throat– ”Wait, what? I don’t want you to stay. I mean–” The brunet cleared his throat louder this time– ”oh, my gosh–I don’t care whether you stay or not. Wait, no, that’s not how that was supposed to come out.”  The brunet’s hand gestures were starting to get wildly out of hand. “I’m sorry. Okay, like, I don’t mind–”

“Hey, hey, relax, kid. I think I get what you mean.” Bill held out a hand, as if to calm down a frightened deer. “Here,” he pointed at the plate in front of Dipper, “have some of your own fries, they’re good.”

Dipper could feel his cheeks grow warm and shielded his face with a hand on his forehead. Embarrassingly, he picked up a fry and took small, wary bites. “Thanks. What I _wanted_ to say was, we have a gnome forest here. And it’s not one of those fake ones either.”

“A _gnome_ forest?” Bill’s eyes widened. Dipper bit back a smile at the childlike shine that passed over his face. The blond continued, chewing on a fry thoughtfully, “This town is full of more surprises than I originally thought.”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t underestimate us so much,” Dipper teased. “I have to say though, it’s kind of dangerous. Mabel and I barely made it out of there alive once.”

“Well, all the more reason to go, then!” There was that whimsical twinkle in Bill’s eyes again. “I suppose I could put off my work for one day. I’m almost done anyways. What do you say, kid?” He was so swept up in his fervor that the plate of pancakes being placed on the table was completely ignored.

The blond’s exuberance was contagious, and a bit more ardor now shone through Dipper’s previously nervous smile. “O-Okay, just slow down a second, Bill. I’d _love_ to go on a trip to the woods with a stranger I’ve only known for a day, but… I do still have an internship to go to, unlike you.”

Dipper had never seen Bill so outright euphoric. “Alright, kid. What time do you get off tomorrow? We can go afterwards.”

“You’re really fixed on this, aren’t you? Can I back out of this?” Dipper joked, though a small part of him felt compelled to go.

“Sorry, Pinetree. I’ve deemed you my tour guide, so you’re stuck with me for eternity now.”

The sigh that came out of Dipper was the same as the exaggerated ones he used whenever he was confronted with one of Mabel’s outlandish ideas. “I guess I really have no choice,” said the brunet, with a grin tugging at his lips. “Okay, I don’t exactly have a set time, but I’ll try to get off at around 6. I can come pick you up, where’re you staying?”

“Actually, I can do the picking up, Pinetree.” Bill winked, finally calming down and beginning to cut up his pancakes. “Just tell me where you work and I can find my way there.”

And as much as Dipper insisted that Bill might get himself lost, he persisted until Dipper had no choice but to ‘accept your fate, Pinetree’, as the blond put it. Once the two had settled on a time and location, Dipper worked on finishing his burger, all the while listening to and watching Bill take turns between talking about plans for the next day and wolfing down the pancakes.

But despite the lightness he had felt the entire night, even after he had gone home, the brunet still couldn’t stop thinking about tomorrow. What on earth had he gotten himself into? A date in the woods? With a stranger? At night?

He was almost scared to hear what Mabel’s reaction would be tomorrow.


	6. A Short Escapade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is an exceptionally long chapter but i hope you guys have as much fun reading it as i did writing !! <3 also we reached 100 kudos omg !! tysm dears <3

Every kid was once a paranormal enthusiast. The way Bill saw it, it was a normal stage of growing up. Oftentimes, when he recalled his memories and experiences with the paranormal, the good ones anyway, it came with a sense of fond nostalgia, like the sensation of drinking warm milk with honey on a sleepless night. Days spent in the forest with a bulky notebook in his arms and blunt pencils clunking around in his pocket. Windup flashlights and disposable cameras jostling in his backpack. As these things go, the expeditions dwindled in their frequency as the blond had grown older and suffered the dismal burden that was his adolescence (and everything that followed). However, the fascination and admiration for the paranormal and the weird never left him.

That’s why he was currently bouncing from corner to corner of his motel room, driven by gusts of excitement. He found it quite impossible to believe he’d actually gotten Dipper to agree to their little adventure. When he had asked him out, he hadn’t thought he’d even get as far as bringing up the idea, much less receiving a yes.

Unfortunately, the more Bill revved up himself up, the more he had to remind himself this wasn’t anything _romantic._ Just a little task to get closer to the target, of course. And he could never resist having a little fun on his assignments. A gnome forest, a dangerous one, sounded thrilling–a perfect adventure in this, so far dull, trip. By the time Bill had returned home a few hours ago, the rats which invaded the kitchen had long been forgotten, replaced with imaginings of what the two could do tomorrow. If they were lucky, maybe they’d see an actual, living gnome, in the flesh.

He should pack. What did one usually bring on a trip to a dangerous and life-threatening gnome forest? Despite having full knowledge of every item that was in his bag, Bill zipped it open and shuffled through, searching for anything that might be useful. The frenzied digging was soon interrupted by a loud ringing jingle, accompanied by fabric-muffled buzzing. Bill lifted the bag to find his phone, still vibrating and dangerously close to the edge of the desk.

He picked it up, bemused to see Pax’s name printed on its screen. Was it yet another new piece of unexpected information? A surprise visit from Mabel this time? He effectively masked any residual giddiness in his voice as he answered the call. “Yello! This is Cipher.”

“Bill, tell me you’re close to completing the assignment.” Pax’s voice was dull and stony as gravel, but even more so than usual.

Bill rolled his eyes, the grin in his voice audible. “Sheesh, what’s with the hurry? Didn’t I tell you I’m getting to it?”

“This is serious. The contractor has been inquiring about it.”

“Tell Gleeful he doesn’t need to get his giant hair in a knot. Stanford’ll be dead in under a week.” Not a second after the words had come out, an uncomfortable squirming sensation manifested in his gut.

“2 weeks have passed. The contractor informed me he expected the assignment to have been completed by now.”

“Quality takes time, Pax! Quality takes time. If he wanted something quicker, he should’ve done it himself! Though I doubt _that_ would end well. The kid’s got moxie, but he doesn’t exactly clean up nicely.”

“ _Cipher._ Are you affirmative you are handling things?”

“Pax, I’m offended you even suggest otherwise,” said the blond with a slight frown. “Buddy, I assure you I’ve got everything under control.”

“If you say so. I will tell the contractor you’ll need one week longer.”

“Perfect. See how great things can be when you don’t question me?”

The other grunted in response before hanging up.

Bill scowled at his phone before setting it back down. Gideon Gleeful. Just what in the hell does that kid think he is? The blond gave an annoyed huff. Nobody tells him what to do, when to take out his targets. If he wanted to wait 3 weeks or 3 months, he was going to. What was ol’ Gleeful going to do about it? The kid looked like he weighed less than a brick, despite being alive for 18 years. Hah! They’d have to drag his cold, dead body away from Gravity Falls.

 

△▼

 

At 6:30pm sharp the next day, Bill was at the Mystery Shack, per Dipper’s instructions. Vaguely, he recalled the brunet asking him not to go inside, to save him the trouble of being pestered by Stanley into buying something. So he followed Dipper’s instructions and stayed in the car–

–for roughly two minutes. Afterwards, the air started getting too stuffy. Stuffy wasn’t a pleasant state to be in. The blond got out of the car and made his way closer to the perimeter of the Shack. He walked a circle around the building, observing it. The old wood of its walls provided a sense of homely familiarity, but its confusing architecture fit right in with the undercurrents of abnormality that were felt all throughout Gravity Falls.

Bill didn’t have long to investigate. The crunchy creak of old metal against dirt shortly caught his attention. Turning towards the sound, the blond saw Dipper in his car, if he could call it that. He watched on as Dipper tried to park, a process involving much scraping and mechanical pertussis. To Bill’s relief, Dipper eventually managed to successfully park. Well, as successfully as one could park with a barely functional scrap of junk, anyway.

“Hey, kid! Over here,” Bill called out to the brunet when he had gotten out of the car, waving an arm in the air. Catching sight of him, Dipper gave a tight-lipped smile and made his way over to the blond.

“Hey,” said the brunet, “can you wait here a bit longer? I have to put some stuff away and get some things. It’ll only take a few seconds.”

“Sure,” Bill replied, climbing back into the car. Dipper gave a small smile and headed back into the Shack. A few minutes passed before he emerged again. On the way to Bill’s car, he made a small detour to pick up a red leaf blower lying by the Shack’s porch. He then half-jogged back to Bill and got into the car, next to the blond.

“What d’you need a leaf blower for?” Bill snorted, looking down at the red contraption Dipper placed on the floor of the car.

“Hey, don’t judge. It’s for the gnomes,” said Dipper, settling into his seat.

Bill mockingly stroked an imaginary beard as he replied, “Ah yes, a housewarming present.”

The other gave a small, indignant frown. “Hey, I know more than you when it comes to this stuff.”

“Mhm, I know lots of things too. Try not to get so cocky, kid.”

“I don’t think I’m the one here who needs to worry about that,” the brunet laughed. “Just start the car already, it’s getting dark.”

“Where’s the fun if it’s still light?” Bill grinned back, but nonetheless, turned the key in its ignition. In a few seconds, the engine started up, a smooth thrum running through the vehicle. As Dipper helped the blond to navigate through the tricky paths and trails that wound from the Shack into the forest, the two chattered aimlessly, the conversation a jumble of disconnected topics.

“Just a straight path from here, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Just keep going straight.”

“Easier said than done.” Bill’s words carried a jocular note to them.

 _Huh?_ Dipper dismissed the other’s words and tried to change the topic, “Alright, even if you can’t tell me what you’re doing here, can you at least tell me what your job is?” He watched carefully as contemplation settled on the other’s face.

“Let’s just say I work in human resources.”

“Oh.” Dipper had expected something less… modest. From their interactions so far, Bill didn’t seem like the type to work in an office all day long, filing through job applications and completing paperwork. But then again, he hadn’t really known the other for that long. “What’s it like?”

“Boring,” Bill replied, his tone terse before it sprang back into its original spirit. “How goes the internship?”

“Uh, I’ve only been working there for a few days, but it’s been pretty good so far,” Dipper spared a glance at their surroundings to determine where they were, “I’m just glad I could get an internship in the first place. A lot of companies wouldn’t take me, for some reason.”

“Welp, that’s their loss,” Bill said, looking over at the other. With a mental jolt, Dipper noticed the blond’s expression, surprisingly warm and… soft? He coughed and looked back at the road, feeling the other’s warmth mirrored in the growing blossom across his face. Heck, what was wrong with him?

“A-Anyways, where’ll you be going back to after you’re done here?”

Bill rashly skimmed over the consequences of telling the truth, and decided to go against his better judgment. “Oakland.”

“Huh–” Dipper quirked his mouth– “that’s pretty close to Piedmont.”

“Piedmont, you say?”

“Yeah, I grew up there. But I kind of spent most summers here in Gravity Falls with my Grunkles.” He corrected himself, “Grand uncles.”

Bill snorted. “I’m assuming that sister of yours came up with the name.”

In response, Dipper laughed softly. “Yeah. She kind of has a penchant for made-up words.”

“Your sister sure sounds like a lotta fun.”

“She is,” sighed Dipper. “Sometimes, I kind of wish I hadn’t graduated so early. We could still be in the same state, at least.” Immediately, he regretted oversharing. But the tone in Bill’s response was nothing close to judgmental.

“Don’t blame yourself, kid. Where’s she now?”

“Some art school in Chicago.”

“Senior year?”

Dipper nodded.

“Cheer up, sad sack. Time has no meaning, a year goes by faster than you think.” Bill smirked.

“I hope so.” Dipper chuckled, though his eyes were unsure. “At least she’s coming back for Christmas.” Absently, the brunet looked back out the window. “Oh, we’re here.”

“Already?” Bill lightened his step on the accelerator, slowing the car down ever so slightly.

“Mhm.” Dipper unbuckled and hoisted his bag onto his shoulders as Bill stopped the car at the edge of the path. Dusk had fallen, the sky stained with a dusty concoction of lilacs and washed up roses. A peppering of stars was growing more visible as the evening sky started to fade in, like ink in water. Dipper took a quick glimpse at his watch. _6:58pm_. Within the forest, shadowy, saturnine depths consumed the grass, leaving only the first few lines of trees in clear view. The brunet sucked in a deep, reverent breath. He had always been in awe of the strange clash of mystical and sinister in Gravity Falls’ forests. And Gravity Falls, in general.

Behind him, he heard a door thump shut, the click of a locked car, and the cheery voice of Bill. “Ready to go?”

Dipper looked back and smiled. “Yeah, come on.” He started along the length of the path. Like an overzealous but doting puppy, Bill quickened his pace so that the pair were walked side-by-side.

“So how far are we walking?”

”A little. Think you can handle it?” Dipper dared himself to raise a challenging eyebrow at Bill.

The blond’s response was an affronted scoff and lofty, crossed arms. “Are you an idiot, Pinetree?”

Dipper laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” A few steps more, and the brunet turned to his left and continued off onto another, smaller path deeper into the looming trees. The ground grew sandier, its particles finer. The pair kicked up small puffs of dust as they trod on. Walking alongside Bill in silence, a million thoughts sped through Dipper’s head. Most of them concerning the fact that he was now going even deeper into a forest, in the darkness, with a complete stranger who seemed prone to experiencing unpredictable, manic-like states of spontaneity. But he’d come so far already. What was he going to do, arbitrarily say they needed to go back?

Immersed in his thoughts, the brunet almost failed to realize they’d arrived at the gnome cave. He broke out of the pensive trance and held out an arm to prevent Bill from tumbling in, who returned an amused look, given that both of them were safely several steps back from the edge and nowhere near falling in. The two had reached a large, circular chasm in the ground, its edge overgrown with somehow bushier grass than the rest of the forest and lined with hunched over trees, their ivy-draped branches inclined towards the opening like hands clasping a jewel. A rocky, steep slope led into what appeared to be a cavern, which Bill expected to be drenched in darkness, but instead glowed with an ethereal, aquamarine paleness.  

Dipper swallowed, heart tingling. He knew for a fact that going down there would compromise both of their safety. And though he was sure he’d be able to handle it, there was the issue of drawing danger to another person’s life. The brunet eyed Bill furtively and then brought his gaze to the entrance to the cave. No, no. This was going to get dangerous, and injuries would happen. He turned to the other to say it was time to go, but saw he was already regarding him with a keen look.

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

Round eyes gawked back at Bill. “You… want to go down there?”

“‘Course! That is what we came here for.”

“I mean, _yeah_ , I guess. But this was a bad idea. I didn’t think this through. When I said the gnomes were dangerous, _I meant it_.” Dipper fidgeted with the torch in his hands. “Dude, I can’t be responsible for your life. Let’s go back.”

“What are you talking about, kid?” Bill placed both his hands on the other’s shoulders and fixed his gaze onto his face. Dipper felt a prickling sensation under the warmth of the other’s hands. “I’m responsible for my own life. You don’t have a single thing to worry about, okay? Besides,” smirked Bill, “I can take care of myself just fine. I’ve had experience with these things before, and I assure you, I’m too good to die.”

Dipper gave an unimpressed huff. In his head, he found himself desperately scurrying between the pros and the cons. Finally, after what felt like an hour of mental sparring with himself, he let out a heavy sigh. “...Fine. But you said it yourself, remember that.”

“Great!” The blond’s face lit up with the energy of a new light bulb, “Off we go.” Dipper tried to keep from flinching as the other grabbed his hand and led both of them to the edge of the gaping maw of the cave. Together, they slowly made their way down the slope, with Dipper continuously warning not to step on the slippery surfaces of the moss-blanketed rocks and Bill continuously ignoring such warnings. The blond was the first to reach the bottom, with Dipper close behind.

“Y’know, if you’d spent less time caring about the moss, you’d have gotten down here the same time as me,” teased Bill, as Dipper scanned the area around where his next step would be.

Dipper shushed the blond. “I’m trying to concentrate here.”

“Okay, okay, Mr. Safety,” Bill held up his hands in defense.

As Dipper looked up to retort, he distractedly placed a foot on what had _felt_ like solid rock. Before he knew it, the brunet let out a startled yelp as he slipped and toppled from the slope.

He’d expected to collapse onto the rough surface of the cave floor. Instead, he felt two steady hands under his arms and the quickened beating of Bill’s chest against his back, supporting the whole of his weight. “Gotcha!” Bill’s blithe voice was much too close and loud for Dipper’s comfort. “Tell me, Pinetree, who was the one that thought I couldn’t take care of myself?”

The brunet was shaking slightly, muttering obstinately, “I never said that. Also, you were distracting me with your yapping.”

“Now let’s not play the blame game,” the other chirped.

Dipper rolled his eyes. He then furrowed his brows upon realizing the feeling of Bill’s hands was still on his arms. “Oh… uh, Bill, you–you can let me go now.”

“Oh! Right!” The blond nudged Dipper back onto his feet before letting his hands fall back to his sides.

Dipper cleared his throat and muttered, in a low voice, “Thanks, by the way.”

Bill beamed. “Don’t mention it!”

Shivering as an icy draft blew in through the cave opening, Dipper stepped forward into the full light of the cave. He hadn’t been here in years, yet it looked the same. Rock slabs were elevated at different heights all throughout the cave, and the ‘walls’ of the cave were formed by the trunks of trees, which looked to be centuries-old but stood robust nonetheless. Tall, multi colored mushrooms sprouted in random spots, accompanied by clusters of boulders, on which layers of damp moss made their home. Soft, crystalline light emitted from spots that hovered in the air and among the tree leaves, spots which seemed to hum with life.

The scenery looked like something straight out of one of Mabel’s old fairytale books, but Dipper knew better than to think its inhabitants were anything other than unwelcoming.

Bill walked alongside the brunet as he began to move deeper into the cave, their steps absorbed by the ground. The cave was eerily placid. Dipper’s shoulders tensed, anticipating an attack.

Bill’s voice echoed, disconcertingly loud. “You know, for some sorta gnome cave, there really aren’t that m–” He was quickly interrupted by a voice, its pitch resembling that of those chicken toys that scream when you squeeze then release them.

“Well! If it isn’t Dipper Pines, taker-of-queens! And who’s this new friend?”

A short man, with a graying, fuzzy beard and a red cap atop his head jumped down from a tree to the left.

Bill gave Dipper a quizzical look, and the other shot back one that said ‘ _Don’t ask. Don’t say anything.’_ Dipper faced the gnome and answered cautiously, “Nice to see you again, Jeff.”

“Oho, I wish I could say the same for you, boy! You’re a sworn enemy of the gnome race now! Took our queen, got countless of our comrades eaten by that dumb goat of yours, and now you come walking in here in the middle of our frolicking like some sort of–some sort of fairy!” At that, Dipper raised an eyebrow.

“Boy, you sure are stupid to come back here.” The gnome stalked up to Dipper and Bill and sneered, “But anyways, since you’re here and we’ve got you, we can now get our long deserved revenge! _Gnomes of the forest, attack!”_

From the darkness behind the trees, dozens of other small men, akin to Jeff, emerged and scampered like rats towards Bill and Dipper. With ferocious speed and force, they launched themselves at the pair. Dipper tried to stay calm. He drew out his memories from the experiences of all those summers at Gravity Falls. With only a few seconds left before the gnomes would be too innumerable to escape, the brunet kicked away the gnomes approaching his legs and seized Bill’s hand.

“Run!” Dipper yanked Bill with him, tearing straight for the opening of the cave. Fortunately, the terrain was familiar to Dipper and the pair didn’t manage to slip on anything this time as they ran out of the cave.

“No! They’re getting away! Go, go, go!” Jeff screeched from behind.

Suddenly, the image of a towering, red monster flashed in Dipper’s mind. He pulled on Bill’s arm even harder and sped up. If they didn’t get to the car faster, they’d be turned into human pudding. Like an answer to Dipper’s prayers, the two presently reached the open path on which they had arrived. The car was still idly parked as if the night had remained undisturbed.

Bill reached into his pocket, producing a set of keys. The moment Dipper heard the car click, he tugged the door open and climbed in, movements clumsy but speedy. Next to him, Bill turned the key in its ignition.

A thundering step. Then another. They continued, the noise growing more deafening by the second.

Behind the car, a mammoth, humanoid mass advanced towards Bill and Dipper. Moonlit, it seemed as though it were soaked in blood. The blond looked up at his rearview mirror and laughed. “Oh, wow! Thought those things would’ve been chasing us on their tiny legs.”

The brunet gaped at Bill as if he’d gone insane. He yelled through the burning of his chest, “Now’s not the time for that. Just start the car already!”

“Not yet.” Considering the situation the two were in, Bill’s tone was calm as the moon that hung in the sky.

“‘Not yet?’ What _the hell_ are you waiting for?” Dipper’s growing volume matched his desperation. “Dude, don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re now being chased by a literal _gnome giant!_ ”

“Trust me, kid! I got this.”

“ _Trust you?_ I’ve only known you for two days!”

“Three, actually.”

“That’s not important! _Start the car!”_

The car gave a small jump as the gnome giant was nearing.

“Oh man, oh man.” Dipper’s voice quivered with anxiety. “ _Bill!_ ”

“Fine, you want to know what I’ve been waiting for?  _This!_ ” yelled Bill, before Dipper had a chance to respond. A foot away from the car, the giant was getting ready to stamp it into the ground. It lifted its foot in preparation. At the same moment, Bill switched the car into reverse, ramming the rear of the car into the giant’s single standing leg. The gnomes seemed to be moving in slow motion as they fell in a muddled mass. Switching the car back into drive, Bill swerved around the tumbling gnomes and raced down the path. Both he and Dipper were pushed into the soft cushion of their seats by the force from the sudden acceleration.

Dipper peeked at the wing mirror to his right. Though Bill’s hit had scattered the gnomes in a matter of seconds, they reformed equally as quickly. Soon, the same gnome giant was chasing them down the path again, each thundering step felt through the ground and the car.

“WE’LL GET YOU THIS TIME, DIPPER PINES,” bellowed the giant. The trees running along the sides of the path shook in their roots.

Looking back at Bill, Dipper saw that the other had a devilish grin on his face, adrenaline flaming in his metallic irises. The brunet now couldn’t decide who was scarier.

Behind the car, the monster roared again. The gnome giant. Definitely, the gnome giant was scarier.

The brunet turned back to Bill and tried to get his thoughts in order. His yelling was nearly drowned out by the thuds that shook the forest floor. “Listen, Bill. They can’t function properly without a leader. Lead them back to the Shack, and I’ll handle it.”

A knife-sharp glint streaked across Bill’s eyes as he shot a glance back at Dipper. “Whatever you say, kid!” The speedometer surged to full as the blond stepped even harder on the gas pedal, flattening it against the floor of the car. In just under ten minutes, the car skidded to a stop at the entrance to the Mystery Shack.

Dipper shoved his car door open, tumbling out with the leaf blower bundled in his arms. Now that they had stopped, he suddenly realized with a dropping feeling in his stomach, that he didn’t _actually_ have a plan. What was he going to do? Mabel wasn’t here to lure Jeff down. The leaf blower was rendered useless if there wasn’t a gnome to aim in the first place.

The giant was now in front of the Shack. It raised an arm, and Dipper saw that a fist had formed. _Fuck._ As the brunet’s mind ran through a number of options, all equally ridiculous and impossible, he caught view of Bill walking forward. “What– What are you doing? Bill, stay back!”

Bill stood in front of Dipper, shielding the latter from the gnome giant. “I told you, I got this, Pinetree.” He winked then turned back to face the giant. “Hey! You short stacks mentioned you wanted a queen, did I hear that right?”

The fist paused in mid-air. Dipper’s eyes widened. What was Bill thinking of doing?

“Ah, I see you’re interested! Just fantastic! Sorry this nerd over here–” Bill gestured behind him at Dipper– “stole your queen.”

The brunet glowered, but didn’t interrupt whatever Bill was trying to do.

“But hey, listen! I’ve got another queen for you, buddy. She’s inside that Shack back there.” The blond jabbed a thumb towards the building behind him.

At Bill’s words, the giant shifted in its expression. Its interest seemed… piqued.

Bill smirked. “Now, if ‘Jeff’ would just come down here and meet her, then we can settle on someth–”

“NO. WE’RE NOT FALLING FOR THIS AGAIN,” roared the giant, miffed. It lifted its fist higher into the air.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Dipper yelled out, running forward with his hands held up to show the leaf blower was nowhere near him. Once again, the giant’s fist stopped. “He’s telling the truth. Mabel’s not here but–but, uh, we have a new employee. Her name’s Marie, and she… dates a lot of short guys?” The brunet mentally smacked himself in the face and waited for the giant to spot the ruse, but it lowered its fist. _They must be pretty desperate,_ he thought to himself.

Bill happily grinned at Dipper, “Yep! Marie’s her name. Just come on down and I’ll gladly take you inside to meet her,”

“IF YOU TRY ANYTHING AT ALL, YOU’LL SUFFER SOME MAJOR CONSEQUENCES.”

“Good thing we’re not trying anything, then!” Bill replied with a sugary grin. The two watched as Jeff climbed down from the top of the giant’s head and hopped onto the ground.

“Alright, where’s our queen?”

“Right here, buddy!”

And Dipper watched on in a mix of astonishment and mirth as Bill _stepped_ down on Jeff, planting his shoe firmly on the small body of the gnome. Jeff squirmed, wildly flinging fists down on the blond and kicking the air. Dipper couldn’t help letting out a small laugh. One minute ago, the small being was commanding a twenty feet tall giant, and now, he was squeaking under Bill’s shoe. Jeff bared yellowed teeth as he tried to bite down on his restraint.

“Careful there, buddy, that’s leather!” Bill grinned. “Pinetree, would you mind grabbing the leaf blower for me?”

Dipper laughed and went to retrieve the leaf blower from where he’d dropped it. He handed it over to Bill, who then used it to vacuum up Jeff, legs first. With a warm fondness that was unfit for the situation they were in currently, the sight of Bill trapping the gnome reminded Dipper of Mabel. The corners of his mouth quirked up, briefly.

Facing them, the gnome giant had been shocked into standing still, alarmed disbelief etched into its face.

Jeff began to chide vehemently, “You dolts! Don’t just stand there–” Dipper grabbed a handful of caramel-colored leaves and stuffed them into the gnome’s mouth. Now all that could be heard was wet coughing and stifled hollering.

Dipper snickered. “That’s much better. Don’t want you waking my grand-uncles up.”

“Nice job, kid.” Bill gave Dipper an approving grin before nodding towards the leaf blower. “Looks like it’s time to get rid of these guys! I gotta say–” The blond looked down at the gnome in his grasp, expression turning dangerous– “I’m really gonna miss you, Jeff. Pinetree was the one who brought me to the cave, but… you were the real superstars. Thanks for making tonight so great. I’ll never forget you.” He huffed out a loud, breathy laugh as Dipper gave his shoulder a light shove. “Okay, okay. Let’s get this over with.”

Aiming the leaf blower, Bill yelled loudly before flipping the switch to Forward. “Go fetch, you miniature, abominable freaks of nature!” Jeff the gnome was then catapulted, making a perfect beeline for the center of the giant’s chest. The next second, tiny men with red cones atop their heads were raining down from the sky.

Bill stood, face up, gazing at the falling gnomes with wide, starry eyes. “Ha ha! It’s like some sort of messed up meteor shower. But with bodies! Instead of meteors.” He blinked. “I love it!”

Dipper laughed softly and shook his head. He took Bill’s hand and led him onto the porch, away from the gnomefall which was sure to get at least one of them impaled had they both stayed under its fire. The two took shelter under the roof, watching gnomes fall from the sky, for a few moments until Dipper was sure they’d all landed.

“I didn’t think I’d be saying this, but tonight’s been fun, despite the possible death by gnome,” chuckled Dipper. The pair had stepped off the porch and were making their way back to Bill’s car, both checking to see that they didn’t step on any gnomes (of the few that hadn’t scampered away already).

“See? What’d I tell you?” Bill’s face shone with prideful glee. The car door was unlocked then tugged open by the blond.

Dipper breathed out in a little chuckle. “Fine, you were right. But we’re not doing anything like that ever again.”

“‘Again’?” Bill raised both eyebrows, enthused. “So you’re saying there’s a chance we’ll hang out again?”

“Y-You misread what I said.” Dipper said this with a sheepish smile. “But, I mean–I mean, it’s a small town. We’ll probably see each other again, right?”

“I hope so!” Bill grinned. “Sure had a blast fighting gnomes with you, kid.”

“No, the pleasure’s all mine,” Dipper bowed jestingly.

Bill chuckled and got into the car. “See you soon, Pinetree.” With a final, toothy grin, the blond started the car and drove off.

Under the star-patterned sky, Dipper made his way back into the Mystery Shack, a soft smile upon his face.


	7. Boundaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi !! thanks to everyone for waiting for the new chapter! i hope you like it
> 
> also, this is the first chapter i've ever had beta-ed! so, i wanna say a huge thank you to @askunderfellsans (madkingred on ao3), @nautacare, and @billcipherscornerofchaos for being the beta readers for this chapter !!!

“ _You_ _went on a date with the grandnephew of your fuckin’ target?_ ”

Normally, Bill’s music was set to its highest volume, but even he couldn’t help but wince at the glass-shattering volume at which Veronica was screeching. He took down a measuring cup from the cupboard and placed it down onto the ceramic tabletop. “Pyro, you’re twisting my words. It wasn’t a date.”

“Darling, you didn’t need to say it.”

Bill scoffed at what he thought was a ridiculous and baseless assumption. 

“Well? Admit it. You want him.”

“He’s just a part of the plan.”

“Bill motherfucking Cipher, you’s fuckin’ lyin’ to yourself.”

Years ago, Bill might’ve been taken aback by the endless string of obscenities spewing out of Veronica’s mouth, but now he’d come to recognize it as an integral part of her speech. “It’s the truth.” Picking up a packet of sugar, he proceeded to pour it into the measuring cup.

Veronica steamrolled over Bill’s response, “Man, this shit is wicked messed up. You can’t just go ‘round getting crushes on your target’s relatives.”

“Gee, thanks for enlightening me, an experienced contract killer, with your thoughts on the inner workings and protocols of  _ my _ job.” Bill’s tone was dry as powder as he dumped the contents of the measuring cup into a large, glass bowl. “Also, I  _ don’t  _ have a crush, and I think you might need to check your facts there because I have never  _ once _ liked any of my target’s relatives.”

“Oi, don’t you dare get cocky with me.”

“Oh, was that being cocky? I didn’t notice.” Bill’s voice was swimming in dense sarcasm. “Anyways, as I  _ just _ said, Pinetree is a part of the plan.”

“You even gave him a stupid nickname,” spat Veronica.

With a loud  _ clunk _ , Bill put the measuring cup back down. “I give nicknames to everyone.”

“Fine,” snarled Veronica. “But I’m just tryna help you b’fore you get yourself into a fuckin’ dumpster fire.”

“I never asked for your help.”

Veronica laughed harshly. “You don’t ask for a lotta things, even when you need it.” 

Bill froze, hand mid-reach towards a small packet of baking powder. He knew the things she was talking about. He also knew he’d asked her, on countless occasions, not to mention or reference any of them. 

When the blond didn’t reply, Veronica spoke up again. Her tone had taken a dramatic shift, dampening. “I just don’t wanna see you get hurt again. Every time, you go crazy ‘n make a fuckin’ mess. And I’m not sayin’ you don’t have the right to, but you don’t learn from whatever the fuck you get yourself into. Not to mention all the other shit you’ve been through.”

The blond gathered several moments to respond. His hand finally moved, snatching the baking powder from its place. “Since when did you become my therapist?”

“You idiot, I’ve been takin’ care of you, your whole goddamn life.”

Bill rolled his eyes, “Need I remind you, we met when I was fifteen?”

Veronica tutted. “Details don’t matter. Just look out for yourself, Cipher—”

“Yeah, yeah, I will.” With delicate precision, he sprinkled baking powder into a spoon and shook its contents into the bowl.

“Oi, I’m not finished,” Veronica snapped, then continued on. “Get the assignment done as soon as you can. Then get outta there.”

Bill gave an irritated sniff. “ _ Again, _ with the ‘leaving Gravity Falls’ thing.”

“I’m sayin’ it cause you needa hear it. It’s no good staying for that kid.” Her thick Boston accent was laced with a dichotomy of condescension and care.

“For the last time, Pyro, I’m not staying for him. But of course, what would you know? Our jobs aren’t even remotely similar. When was the last time you met someone during an arson, huh?”

“Listen to yourself! This is basic fuckin’ common sense! You’re not only ruining your life but his too.”

Bill refused to answer, choosing to yank the top off of a bag of flour instead.

“This is the best advice you’re gonna get, darling. You either follow it or go through another shitstorm.”

Grabbing the top corner with his left hand, he tilted the bag by slowly lifting its bottom with his right hand. The blond’s eyebrows furrowed. He tried hard to ignore Veronica’s incessant carping.

Veronica sighed. “Does Pax know? If he does, I bet a thousand bucks he’s sayin’ the same thing.”

“There’s nothing for him to know about.” 

“Good. You go clean this mess up yourself.”

Bill’s hands trembled, a rising temper burning at the tips of his fingers. In a second, the hand supporting the bottom of the bag jerked upwards, and flour streamed out, dusting the tabletop, Bill’s hair, and his clothes in a coating of powder. Clouds of white billowed in the air like swarms of agitated winter moths. “Shit.”

“Hey, don’t give me that language.”

A frayed sigh came out of Bill. “That wasn’t for you. I just dropped something.”

“Oh. ‘Kay then.” 

Bill didn’t respond, placing his attention on dusting off his clothes and hair. 

“Hold up, where the hell are you right now?”

“In my room.”

“You workin’ on the assignment?”

“Yes. Is this conversation over? I have some business I need to get to.”

“That business better be your job.”

Bill merely huffed, muttering a quick goodbye before pushing the end button for the call. He looked from the screen to the kitchen, which currently resembled a town in the aftermath of a snowstorm. The flour had formed a skin over the majority of the countertop. Miniature, white hills had taken shape in the bowl, half of which was filled with the substance. 

Wearily, he wondered how long it would take to clean everything up. The idea of a gift had come to him spontaneously in the first few minutes after he had woken up. He had immediately driven to the grocery store after a hasty change of clothes and spent roughly an hour there, picking out the perfect ingredients to make the perfect gift for the perfect recipient. Unfortunately, that hadn’t left much time to bake, considering he’d woken up at two in the afternoon.

The blond reached out for the bag of flour, shook it, and frowned at the lightness. Then, with relief, he remembered that most of the flour had been transferred to the bowl and the measuring cup. Setting the bag back down onto the countertop, he lifted the measuring cup to see how much flour it held. Not much. He took out a metal spoon from one of the many cabinets and began to work on scooping out spoonfuls of flour from the bowl and dumping them into the measuring cup.

The muffins were finished at five o’clock, six of them in total, each snug alongside each other in a white cardboard box. Another half hour passed before Bill was done cleaning up the unfortunate flour spillage. And by the time everything was made pristine and orderly again, the fatigue almost outweighed the need to shower. Nonetheless, Bill did it anyways. The mask of white powder he wore did not make for a good look.

He was right to have done so. The annoyingly dry and smothering feeling of flour had drained away with the water and soap, leaving behind a crisp, lime-scented freshness. Bill put on a pair of black sweatpants and slipped a baby blue hoodie over his head, the thick cotton amassing the warmth from the shower to create a soothing layer of it over his skin. He flopped onto the bed. Now all he had to do was wait for 6:30pm to arrive.

It was easier said than done, with the next 45 minutes spent in varying degrees of boredom. Several times, Bill tried to look over the plans for the assignment, propping himself up at the desk with plump pillows but found his attention conveniently pulled to his tangle of earbuds. Other times, the phone call with Veronica dug itself into his thoughts, prodding and poking at his conscience. And many, many times, he nudged away this boredom with thoughts of eyes andalusite and diffident.

Finally, it was time to go. Making his way to the parking lot and into the car, he handled the box of muffins with the utmost care. Driving to the Mystery Shack was quicker than he thought it would’ve been. He may not have been good with the endlessly enigmatic ambulations of time, but directions always came naturally. 

The sky was a faded color, a dusky cloak of cobalt suspended high over the Shack once he arrived. Bill lifted the box out of the car and walked over to a door which he assumed was the main entrance. He knocked, three quick raps. 

No answer.

Bill knocked again, with a bit more force. This time, his ears caught a shuffling sound, growing louder. 

Instantly, Bill recognized the grimy man who now stood at the door. The fez hat that hung lopsided on this man’s head had been the first thing that caught his attention when he saw the photo in the file.

“Eh? What do you want?” Stanley Pines’ gruff voice scraped like a boot on rocky pavement.

Bill’s speech smoothed into velvet. “Pleasure to meet you! The name’s William. I’m looking for a Dipper Pines, is he here?”

The other’s eyes squinted suspiciously. “Hey, how come I’ve never seen you ‘round town before?”

“I’m a friend of Dipper’s. We met at university.” Bill put on his most dazzling smile. He placed a hand on top of the box.

A rasping guffaw burst out of Stanley. “ _ Friend? _ The only friends that kid’s got are those dumb books of his. You’ve got the wrong house.”

Before Stanley could close the door and Bill could protest, the subject of the conversation came down the stairs, mousy hair tousled and pen carefully tucked behind an ear. With a tingle of affection, Bill saw that he was wearing the same hat from a few nights ago. 

“Grunkle Stan, did I just hear someone knock–“ The brunet’s eyes widened when they caught sight of who was standing at the door. “Bill?”

Stanley turned to raise a questioning eyebrow at Dipper. “Hey kid, you know this guy? Says he knows you from school.”

Bill watched Dipper’s eyes cloud with confusion for a millisecond before they cleared up, sharp mind catching on. “Uh, yeah, yeah. He was in my, uh, my Molecular Genetics class.” He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it even further. Bill’s false smile turned genuine.

“Yeah, I don’t care what that means. Make sure he doesn’t take anything,” grumbled Stanley, before shrugging and walking away. 

After waiting for Stanley to leave the entryway, Dipper hurried up to Bill, eyes darting to the box in his hands before returning to his face. “W-What are you doing here? What’s that in your hands? How do you even remember the way here?”

“Woah, woah! Slow down with all the questions, kid! This—” Bill nodded at the box— “is why I’m here! Made you some of my signature cinnamon muffins as a thank you gift for yesterday.” He puffed up proudly.

The brunet’s eyes were still wide, but a corner of his mouth twitched up. “Wh– How– A-Are you serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack!” Bill beamed. 

Dipper laughed nervously. “Bill… you didn’t have to do that. I mean, I almost got you killed.” 

Bill made a  _ pfft  _ sound, flapping a hand dismissively. “You give yourself too much credit, Pinetree. It was ol’ abominable gnome man who tried to kill us! Here, take it.” Bill held out the box.

“No, really, thank you but, I shouldn’t take this.” The other’s hands were held up, palms facing Bill in a gesture of polite refusal. 

“Pinetree, just take it already. C’mon, you deserve it.”

Dipper still looked unsure, his mind set to its default mode of overthinking.

Bill sighed and smiled reassuringly. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll take home half?”

The other’s gaze drifted back to the box again. He responded, unsure, taste testing every word in his mouth before it came out. “That… that would help. Thanks.” 

“Happy to hear it, Pinetree! I don’t suppose you have a bag or something?” 

Dipper smiled and opened the door a little wider. “Yeah, we probably have something like that somewhere. Here, you can come in and wait while I go get it.”

Eyes lighting up, Bill followed Dipper inside. The brunet turned left and headed into the kitchen, leaving Bill at the entrance to the living room. The blond’s gaze scoured the interior of the rickety Shack, lingering on its peculiar furniture. A sudden blaring from a commercial on the television set grasped his attention. 

_ “Tonight! Catch the all-new episodes of Bond Mysteryman Searches for Cryptids and His Missing Husband! A double feature! Catch it at seven pm! Tonight at seven pm! Catch it! Tonight! Bond Mysteryman Searches for Cryptids and His Missing Husband! TONIGHT! Catch it! Catch it now! Tonight!” _ The words ‘TONIGHT’ and ‘CATCH IT’ flashed in between freeze frames of what Bill was forced to assume was the show. The ebullience in the announcer’s voice was quite humorous, he felt.

A few minutes later, Dipper returned to the living room to find that Bill had slid down onto the wooden panels of the floor, gaze fixated on the television screen. Yet, at the sound of Dipper’s footsteps, the blond’s eyes sprang back towards him.

Dipper quirked an eyebrow, but ignored the clamor emitting from the television. “Turns out we didn’t have any bags. So I tried to saran wrap them up, but it didn’t… really work.” In his hands were three auburn muffins, loosely surrounded by crinkled plastic. In some areas, the wrapping was layered on thickly, and in others, there was no wrapping at all.

Standing up, Bill smiled. “This’ll do just fine, Pinetree.” He gently took the package from Dipper’s hands and started making his way to the door. “Whelp, I don’t wish to remain an intrusion on whatever you’ve got going on, so I’ll be leaving now. Enjoy the muffins!”

“Wait, Bill,” said Dipper, rushing after the other. Bill stopped and turned around so abruptly, the brunet almost ran face first into his chest. “Do you– Do you want to stay? There’s this show I like… and, uh, they’re premiering new episodes tonight. I was thinking, we already have snacks... I mean, uh, you don’t have to say yes or anything. It’d be fun though.” His head turned to the side, gaze averted.

“Oh! You mean that show where the man with an obviously fictitious name goes looking for creatures to harass!”

Dipper tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Uhh… yes? Wait, how do you know–”

“Sure, kid!” Bill started to walk back through the doorway. Still concentrating his eyes on the ground, Dipper was caught unawares. He stumbled a few steps back, began to lose his balance, and– oh, no. 

But before he involuntarily made the painful trip onto the floor, Bill grabbed onto his right arm. And Dipper was pulled upright so quickly he was sure he got whiplash. 

“Woah! You gotta watch your step, Pinetree,” said the blond through a grin. His hand left Dipper’s arm. “Starting to think you might  _ want  _ me to catch you.”

Dipper’s mind was dizzy with embarrassment and his face pink with it. It took a few moments for him to respond. “I-I– ” He sighed. “Never mind. Thanks.” 

“Don’t worry about it.”

“So…” The brunet searched for anything to break the silence that had elusively slipped in. Bill’s previous words came back to him. “Wait, did you say you wanted to stay? For the show?”

“I did.”

“Wait, really?”

“Why not? It’s not like I have anything to do.”

Dipper narrowed his eyes in confusion. “What about your job?”

“I already told you, kid. Job’s done. I’m pretty much on vacation now!” Bill grinned.

“Oh. In that case–“ Dipper reached around Bill and nudged the door close with his fingertips– “m-make yourself at home, I guess.” He gestured for Bill to enter the living room, while he turned to make his way back to the kitchen. “Do-Do you want a drink? Just letting you know in advance, though, we only have Pitt Cola.”

“Sounds good to me!” 

Dipper nodded, stepping into the kitchen. Stanley’s bottles of beer gave a few melodic  _ clinks _ as Dipper extracted two cans of Pitt Cola from between them. He picked up the box of muffins from the table where he’d set it down earlier. Absentmindedly, he thought about Bill. And that… moment of awkward, but not entirely unpleasant closeness. Oddly, he found no preoccupations about letting the blond into his house, even after several seconds of thinking. He regarded this with an uncharacteristic indifference. After all, the man  _ had _ saved their lives yesterday. Dipper shrugged and settled on this for a sufficient justification. 

When he walked back to the living room, he was surprised to find Bill standing right where he had left him. He furrowed his brow but smiled. “Why are you still standing here?”

“I was waiting for you. Be pretty rude if I gave myself first pick of seating, don’t you agree?” Bill winked. 

Dipper laughed, soft and timid, and handed him a can of soda. “That’s very considerate of you.” The brunet padded into the living room.

Bill followed. “You say that like it surprises you.”

“What? Psh. No, I didn’t.”

The blond hummed, the sound a playful one. “Suit yourself.”

Dipper rolled his eyes and settled into the large, mustard-yellow armchair across from the television set. He pulled up his legs so he sat cross-legged. Following his example, Bill flumped onto the carpet in front, resting his back on the front of the chair.

The clock showed five more minutes until seven. Dipper leaned down to look at Bill. “Hey, how did you know about the show? I thought it was exclusive to Gravity Falls.”

“Saw a commercial while you were in the kitchen.”

“Oh.” Dipper settled back into the cushion of his chair.

The two sat in companionable quiet, watching various commercials flit past one another on the television while they waited for the show to start. 

Unexpectedly, Bill craned his head to face Dipper. “Why don’t you try a muffin?” 

Dipper had almost forgotten the box he was holding in his hands. “Right. The muffins.” Lifting the top flap, he reached in and withdrew a muffin the size of a baseball. Miniature pebbles of almonds were sprinkled on top, some embedded into its surface. Slowly, he took a bite. 

He didn’t know what he had expected, but it was clear as he chewed that the muffin would have exceeded any and all expectations. Dipper let out a hum of contentment and took another eager bite. Then he glimpsed the expectant eyes of Bill. “W-Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Just wanted to see your reaction.” Bill grinned. “What d’you think?”

“It’s  _ so  _ good.” Dipper’s voice was muffled, with his hand shielding his mouth, but the felicity in it was obvious. “Seriously, you should just leave your boring HR job and open up a bakery.”

Bill’s laugh rang with the lightness of sunshine. “I’m very flattered, Pinetree.” He rested his crossed arms on the edge of the armchair, tender gaze locked on Dipper.

“You should be! These are incredible. Wh-Where’d you even learn to bake like this?” 

“Not sure. Guess it just comes naturally.” Bill winked.

Dipper chuckled. “Man, I bet Mabel would love these. You should bake some for her when she’s here for–” He stopped, stunned by the sentence he was just about to finish.

Mild nonplus showed in the way Bill’s eyebrows perked up. Sensing Dipper’s startle, he decided to change the subject. “I think your show’s about to start.” He gave his best smile to comfort before turning back towards the television.

A few seconds later, strident music burst from the TV, signaling the beginning of the show. But Dipper was frozen, the voices lost to him, blurred.  _ Oh, God.  _ What was he thinking? Christmas was a month away. Bill was probably leaving in a few days.  _ What had he been thinking? _

The sudden silence from Dipper sent Bill into a state of concern. He chimed in, with hopes to distract the brunet. “Ten bucks says this guy’s husband isn’t actually missing.” 

Dipper stayed quiet for so long Bill thought he might not have heard his little quip. But then, the brunet spoke, voice subdued but steady. “No one really knows. Some people think it’s fake and just added to create more mystery, but others think the producers are profiting off of his tragedy. Either way, i-it makes the show more interesting.”

Bill hummed thoughtfully before quieting down again. 

Dipper contemplated whether to address what had just happened. On the one hand, he could clarify things. On the other, it would remind Bill of what just happened.

God, why did he have to say that?

Dipper braced for maximum discomfort. “Bill… a-about what I just said–“

“Hey, don’t stress.” Once again, Bill turned to look at Dipper. “If you want, I could bake some more and leave them with you. Or I could teach you how to make ‘em. Your choice, Pinetree.”

Dipper breathed a sigh of a relief. He smiled. “Th-Thanks, I’ll think about it.”

Satisfied to see the tension leave Dipper’s face, Bill turned back towards the screen. The blond leaned his head back, resting it on the edge of the armchair. He felt his hair brush against Dipper’s leg.

Dipper didn’t seem to mind.

△▼

By the start of the second episode, Dipper had already fallen fast asleep. Bill knew this because he’d heard a  _ floomp _ sound during the commercial break and turned around to find the brunet slumped onto the right arm of the chair, eyelids closed like petals of a rosebud. Their faces had been a breath away from each other. It’d been hard for Bill to stifle a laugh; Dipper had never seemed so at peace. It made a pleasant difference from the shroud of strain he wore every day.

Bill didn’t care much for Bond Copyrightlawsuit Whatshisname in the first place. The only reason he had agreed to stay was because he wanted to see whether Dipper liked the muffins. Mission well accomplished. He reached up for the remote control and clicked the screen off. As quietly as he could, he then got up and padded around the living room, searching for a blanket or something of the sort to cover Dipper with. In the few days he’d been here, he’d come to learn that winter in Gravity Falls was the furthest from merciful.

At last, he discovered a gray, knitted blanket in a lump behind the armchair. He shook it out before laying it over the curled up form of Dipper. In response, the brunet shifted slightly, craning his head before tucking it under his arm again. A photo of a cat sleeping with its tail draped over its muzzle lit up in Bill’s head.

Once he made sure Dipper wouldn’t fall off the armchair, Bill crouched down to pick up his share of the muffins (minus one, because the brunet had asked for one more after he’d finished his), moved to the table nearby, and set them down. Briefly, he thought about writing a note. The blond furrowed his brows, swiveling his head around to find something to write on. But he stopped once doubt started snaking in. Was it even worth it? Was it the right thing to do?

He decided against it.

Making his way to the doorway, Bill glanced back at Dipper, still tightly curled in on himself in the armchair. He closed the door behind him after walking out, his smile slowly being overtaken with a contrite frown. Veronica’s words flew back to him, darts to a board. And all at once, a small part of him couldn’t help thinking–

Had this been a part of the plan?


	8. Hindsight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i didn't wanna write dipper suffering either but look where we are
> 
> huge thank you to @nautacare, @askunderfellsans (madkingred on ao3), and @billcipherscornerofchaos for beta-reading this chapter !!! <3

Watery shades of winter sun streamed through the opening in the door, illuminating the living room carpet with drops of light. When Dipper had fallen asleep last night, the fuzzy shadow of Bill was there in front of him, steadily comforting. When Dipper awoke the next morning, the first thing he noticed was its absence, cold and disquieting. He furrowed his brows, shifting in the armchair to find the familiar sensation of thick wool on his skin.

That was strange. He didn’t recall going to sleep with a blanket. Did Bill do this?

Dipper felt a twinge of warmth at the thought, but this was soon replaced with an overwhelming heaviness when he realized how disappointed he was at the blond missing from in front of him.

A rough voice startled him out of his morning daze. “Hey, sport. About time you got up.”

Turning around, Dipper lifted his head to find the man lounging at a table, a mug in one hand and newspaper in the other. “Grunkle Stan, did you… see Bill this morning?”

“That blond guy? No.” The older man raised an eyebrow. “If you ask me, he seemed a little weird. Smiled too much.”

“He can be like that sometimes,” offered Dipper with a slight smile. Absently, he scratched his head before sitting up and shrugging the blanket off, the warmth surrounding his body briskly eaten up by the morning chill. With a searching gaze, he found two remaining muffins on the table, but this did nothing to alleviate the uncertainty that had settled within.

A rumbling _hmph_ came out of Stanley. “What kind of kook leaves their friend in the middle of the night?”

Dipper made a shrugging motion, as if to say _‘Who knows?’_ , expression sheepish and apologetic. “He’s here for a job. Maybe something came up.” This the brunet believed just as much as he believed that the earth was flat. He looked over at the table again. No note. Despite his suspicions having been confirmed, he felt a pressure on his chest, dull with disillusionment. Distantly, he thought he heard Stanley say something, but let himself sink into the fog of worries that was already starting to clog up his mind. With a stabbing pang of regret and embarrassment, the memory of what he said last night returned. And though Bill was courteous enough to reassure him, this was short-lived.

What if… Bill had noticed? Dipper’s eyebrows furrowed, the brunet deep in anxiety. He hadn’t been too affectionate, had he? What if it’d scared him away? Had he been too forward?

When he heard Stanley speak again, the fog briefly cleared up, letting his voice through.

He blinked. “Huh?”

Grunkle Stan grunted with mild irritation. “I said turn on the news for me. Geez, you still asleep?”

“Just–” A tight yawn interrupted his speech, proving his next words true– “Just a little tired.” Reaching over to his right, Dipper pressed a button on the remote control. Instantly, the television switched on, its dusty screen displaying a face to the left. As the newscaster began to speak, Dipper got ready to leave his seat, but the mention of Stanford’s name pulled him back, and Bill was temporarily wiped from his thoughts. With a concentrated stare, the brunet watched the television screen. Stanley was now beside him, doing the same.

 _“–CEO of Gleeful Technologies and former juvenile delinquent, has issued a public statement this morning,_ threatening _to quote,_ crush _, Stanford Pines, CEO of PinesLabs Incorporated. The following is an excerpt from Mr. Gleeful’s statement.”_

The broadcast then cut to a clip of a stout man with platinum hair that was glaringly bright. Dipper didn’t bother to hold back a snort. Gideon’s hair was as tall as his head.

 _“See, we here at Gleeful Technologies are revealin’ this lil’ ol’ gidget here in a week or so. And I have faith y’all can understand what an important day it should be for us. We folks’ve put oh so so much hard work, sweat, and_ blood _into this lil’ project of ours. So, if_ Stanford Pines _dares to ruin it with one’a his good-for-nothin’ doohickeys, I swear by my daddy’s grave, I will_ crush _you_ , old man! _I should’ve done it sooner, but I mean it this time. You better watch your back, Stanford._ ” For a split second, Dipper could hear the fire boiling in Gideon’s voice before he simmered down again and addressed the interviewer. _“Oh, that top looks just lovely on you, darlin’.”_

The tone in which Gideon spoke was sweet enough to melt Dipper’s ears off, but it did nothing to mask the threat underneath.

 _“That’s right, last month Gleeful Technologies announced the date for the launch–“_ Stanley promptly reached over for the remote and clicked the television off. “Whelp, that’s enough of that.”

Dipper glared at the television screen, embarrassment and regret replaced by annoyance that scraped harshly at his chest. “God, doesn’t he have anything else to do other than diss Great uncle Ford? Everyone knows by now he’s just full of crap.”

“Ah, don’t waste your breath on him, kid,” said Stanley, before taking a sip from his cup. “You said it yourself, he’s not worth it. Besides, shouldn’t you be at work right now?”

All the fog that was in his mind just a few minutes before cleared immediately. Eyes widening, the brunet’s head whipped towards the clock.

He was supposed to be at the laboratories two hours ago.

“Oh, my god.” In a second, Dipper shot up out of his seat, sprinting towards the bathroom. Frenzy marked his movements as he sped through his usual morning routine. The brunet then tore up the stairs and into his old room. There wasn’t any time to pick out a good outfit. Not like he had ever known how to, but the rush led to a particularly shabby pairing of garments. Ripping the charger cord away from his laptop and phone, the brunet stuffed both into his bag and ran back down the stairs, nearly tripping over several steps. _You idiot, Bill’s not here to catch you this time._ Dipper didn’t have the time to think about _why_ this made itself known in his head. He shook the thought away and continued on his way out of the Shack.

Before he ran out the door, Dipper made sure to yell a quick goodbye at Stanley, who gave a halfhearted wave in response from his place in the armchair.

Dipper’s attention was split into fragments, focusing on getting to his car, while grabbing the keys, while adjusting his bag so it wouldn’t slip off. He cursed when his first try at unlocking the car door failed, and again when he fell into his seat rather than stepped in gracefully. Slamming the door, he jammed the key into its ignition. After several frustrating seconds, the car coughed to a start and Dipper was tearing along the road.

Gripping the steering wheel, the brunet cursed again. Last night had been soothing, possibly even perfect. He hadn’t lost himself in such a deep slumber since the summer before freshman year. But there were downsides to sleeping more when one’s body had grown accustomed to an average of four hours every night. Now look what happened. He couldn’t believe he was going to lose an internship all because of oversleeping and because he got carried away with… a boy.

 _A boy._ What had gotten into him?

Dipper ran a hand through his hair. No, none of that right now. He could deal with that later.

Soon, the car arrived at the gates. The lady seemed to speak particularly slow today, and Dipper had to work hard to not lose his temper. After finally passing through and parking his car, Dipper was almost beginning to feel hopeful, before learning that this feeling was premature. At the sight of Stanford standing in front of the glass entrances, arms crossed and a rigid expression on his face, his stomach dropped to the ground and buried itself six feet deep. A sudden urge overcame Dipper, yelling at him to get back in the car, drive all the way to Rhode Island, and never look back again.

He was a heartbeat away from giving in to this urge, if not for the fact that, at that moment, Stanford’s firm eyes met his frantic gawk.

There was no choice. Forcing his keys back into his pocket, Dipper pushed down the wave of nausea that was bubbling within and slowly made his way to the front doors, each step jerking like rusty parts of an abandoned machine. He could practically hear the creaking protests of his joints.

When he reached the doors, Stanford was quick to start speaking. His tone was undetectable, any emotion he felt elusory and tucked away into the deep undertones of his voice. “Dipper, may I speak with you for a moment in my office?”

The brunet gulped, but could suffice a nod. He followed Stanford through the doors and up to the latter’s office.

Once they reached the office, Stanford gestured towards a maroon sofa, one which faced a coffee table that was hexagonal in shape. “Please sit down.”

Dipper complied and seated himself in the middle, organizing his legs together in a neat but stiff fashion. A memory of Pacifica giving him a smack on his shoulder and telling him not to slouch made him straighten his back. And as a last minute adjustment, he placed both hands on his lap. It was, needless to say, a tiring position.

Stanford himself sat at a circular armchair across from Dipper. When the brunet met his gaze, he was relieved to see it had softened ever so slightly. “I hope you understand the events that have warranted this little chat between us.”

“I-” Seriously? A voice crack now? Dipper cleared his throat and tried again. “I do.”

Stanford sighed, eyebrows knitted together. “Dipper, I don’t mean to be overbearing, but you know that it wasn’t easy to arrange this internship for you. A lot of people here didn’t and still don’t agree with the idea. Despite my position as Chief Executive, I also believe that this was an obvious display of nepotism. Although I’ve managed to let that go, what’s bad is that you’ve managed to arrive late to work twice already.”

“I know, and I-I’m really sorry, Great uncle Ford.”

“I understand you’re sorry, but it’s only been your first week here. Maybe if you had been here for over a few months or so, I would have excused this kind of behavior.”

Dipper took a breath. “Y-You can still excuse it. I promise I won’t be late again for the rest of my internship.”

Stanford laughed lightly, but that did nothing to lower Dipper’s shoulders from their stiff hunch. “A promise like that is very hard to keep. Your internship is meant to last a year.”

“R-Right. Um, how about a week? I-I won’t be late for more than 7 days. For the rest of my internship.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely sure. A hundred percent.” The brunet nodded profusely to compensate for his rushed breathing.

Stanford seemed to contemplate this for a few moments, before finally breaking the silence, his tone sturdy and assertive. “Very well. Seven days, Dipper.”

“You got it.” Dipper laughed nervously.

“Alright. You’re free to go now.” Stanford stood up, clearly about to return to his desk.

The thoughts from that morning returned to Dipper in a rush. “W-Wait, Grunkle Ford, can I ask you something?”

Stanford turned back around to face the brunet. “Dipper, you really should be getting to your work.”

“I-I know but I just–I just have this one question.”

Sighing, Stanford regarded Dipper with a skeptical look. However, his silence was inviting.

Dipper sucked in a deep breath. “What–What was it like when you first came out?”

The other seemed to be taken aback by Dipper’s question, so much that it took a few moments before he could formulate a response. “Haven’t I told you about this before?”

“Just a little bit but I want to know… how long did it take your parents to, you know, accept it?”

“Well, it took my mother roughly a month. She was always more… lenient. My father, well, he never got used to it. It was difficult to get him to see even one of my partners.”

“...Oh.” Biting his lip, Dipper’s eyes turned down to the floor.

“Are you asking this because of what happened between you and your parents?”

“Sort of.”

“Listen, Dipper, I’m sorry they’re reacting in such a manner to you coming out. Stanley and I, we both tried our best to talk to them.”

“I know. I really appreciate it.”

“I apologize, there’s not much else we can do. To be frank with you, there’s a chance they could turn out to be like my parents.”

Dipper laughed, though it was a hollow sound. “Well that’s a depressing reality.”

“Indeed. But I’m hoping for your sake that they don’t turn out to be that way. And who knows? My coming out was during the seventies, and the world, our society is constantly changing, Dipper.”

“I guess.” He was shocked at the film of tears building up. But there was no stopping it now. “I-I just don’t understand how they can accept Mabel so soon but not me. Not that I’m not happy for Mabel but… I mean, we came out at the same time. I just expected something that wasn’t this. They won’t even talk to me. Honestly, I’m not even sure if Dad is still paying for graduate school.”

“It truly is an enigma. But I have confidence you’ll work it out. After all, I’ve seen you tackle countless mysteries and monsters in Gravity Falls. Not to say that this is the same, but, well, they’re both equally terrifying. So I know you’ll be fine.” Stanford paused to think about his next words, with a hand placed on his chin. “I guess the best advice I can give you regarding these matters is to not allow it to stand in the way of your happiness, Dipper. That’s what comes first.”

“Thanks, Grunkle Ford.” Sniffing, Dipper smiled at the other.

“Anytime. Also, Dipper, I want you to remember that, even if your parents won’t pay for graduate school, I can help. They’re not the only ones with money.” There was a note of mischief in the way the older man spoke. “Now get to work. I’m sure Fiddleford wants you to help him test out some new things.”

Dipper nodded and turned to leave, but then remembered the newscast from this morning. “Wait, just one more thing. I promise this is the last one.”

Stanford laughed. “Go ahead.”

“Are–Are you worried about Gideon’s threats?”

“Not in the slightest. You know as well as I do that he talks more than he is actually capable of doing.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” Dipper gave another smile, a real one this time, before stepping through the doors and out of the office. His shoes squeaked on the newly polished stone floor as he made his way back to his usual laboratory on the first floor. Stanford had been right about McGucket; the man was in his face the second he crossed the threshold into the labs. Though, with this having happened every morning since he got here, Dipper was beginning to suspect it was more of a usual thing.

“Ah, there you are! Come quickly, we have lots to do.”

Smiling, Dipper followed Fiddleford into his lab, gladly rushing to get the lab coat over his shoulders and his thoughts away from his parents and Bill. Work had always been and still was Dipper’s go-to remedy to distract himself.

Watching Fiddleford, the brunet noted with a tinge of curiosity that the man seemed to be exceptionally frenetic today, more so than usual. His movements were skittish, not unlike those of an excited hamster. It reminded Dipper of Bill in the diner when the topic of the gnome forest came up.

“Don’t just stand there! I want to get this done before the day ends. We don’t have much time.”

Dipper snapped out of the memory, taken aback at how easily he had slipped into it. This wasn’t the time for that. With a frown, he pushed away the unease and focused on walking over to the blueprints, his shoes tapping faintly against the floor. On his way over to the table, not once did McGucket stop in his work. “Uh, Mr. McGucket, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is there a reason why we’re rushing? I thought the lab’s open for you on the weekends?”

“Yes, yes, it usually is, but Stanford’s taking further safety measures to ensure Gideon doesn’t tamper with anything again, so they’ll be closed for the next few weekends.”

To this, Dipper raised an eyebrow. Didn’t Stanford just say they had nothing to worry about? Unfortunately, he didn't have much time to contemplate. In one swift motion, Fiddleford grasped the brunet’s right sleeve and dragged him over to another countertop, on which a screen stood, connected to a complex setup of machinery. Displayed on the screen were multiple clusters of graphs, their lines of data periodically intertwining and separating, reminiscent to Dipper of beds of vivacious eels.

“Now, monitor this while I go finish up the…” Fiddleford’s voice was lost to the din of the grinding gears in his mind as he rushed over to the opposite side of the laboratory, attending to another set of apparatus.

Dipper chuckled. Even if he didn’t ever get the chance to lead one of his own projects, he hoped the rest of his internship would be spent working with Fiddleford. It was definitely worth it. Diligently, the brunet kept his eyes on the screen, occasionally sparing a glance at the machinery beside it to ensure there were no hiccups.

However, after a few minutes, watching the screen turned into a rather monotonous task. Eventually, Dipper’s mind wandered and found its way back to Bill. Never in his life had the brunet tried so hard to keep a person out of his mind. Bill clung to the edges of his thoughts like syrup in one’s throat, stubborn and persistent throughout the rest of the day. It was even enough to push out Dipper’s growing misgivings about Gideon’s threats and Stanford’s confidence.

△▼

After last night’s deep slumber, Dipper would have expected to feel at least a little more well-rested by the end of the day. Unfortunately, this was not the case. In the past five minutes, he’d yawned approximately twenty times, eyes gradually blurring with tears of fatigue. If he didn’t remember the directions back to the Shack so well, this would have proved to be a real driving hazard. Luckily, he soon reached home, slowing his car down to the speed of a snail’s crawl before finally stopping beside the main entrance.

Making his way inside, he was exasperated to find that, even in this state, drunken with drowsiness, Bill’s saccharine voice refused to leave his mind. Was he going to have to put up with this forever? Sighing, he headed up the stairs, weariness sunken deep into his legs. He was more than thankful that tomorrow was a Saturday. That meant he could let himself sleep twelve hours. Twelve hours in darkness, with no worries or thoughts whatsoever, including those about Bill.

Setting his bag down beside his desk, it was a while before he noticed his phone had begun to ring. Relief found its way onto his face when he picked it up and saw the familiar photo of Mabel on his screen, her smile bright and heartening.

Dipper held the phone up to his ear before he began searching for his pajamas. “Hey, Mabel. What’s–”

“Dipdop! Guess who just got accepted for an internship at _Elie Saab?_ ” Mabel’s voice was at an all-time high, euphoria clear as day.

“Uh… Pacifica?” Dipper snickered.

“No! Me, silly!”

“I know, I know. Just messing with you. Congrats, Mabel!”

Mabel squealed, and Dipper could picture her jumping up and down on the other end. “I start right after winter break! And if I do really well, I can even help design something for their Fall collection! How cool is that!”

“That’s awesome! You’re gonna do amazing.”

“Duh.” Mabel giggled. “I can’t wait! It’s gonna be so fun!”

“Also a lot of work though.”

“Psh, I can handle it.”

“Of course,” said Dipper with a smile.

“What about you? I hope things have been going well with Grunkle Ford!”

Dipper stiffened. He forced out a laugh that he realized too late sounded too harsh. “Things are great.”

“That all?”

“Yeah, just the usual stuff with Fiddleford.”

Mabel hummed, deep in thought. Suddenly, she squealed again. If Dipper hadn’t grown up listening to that squeal every hour of the day, his ears would’ve been bleeding by now. “That Bill Cipher guy! Did you see him again? After the gnome forest? I told you to update me if anything happens!”

Dipper felt his insides squirm, but said anyway, “He… came over last n–”

Mabel screamed.

“With muffins.”

She gasped, then screamed again. “Dipper, he likes you!”

“W-What? Mabel–” Dipper laughed nervously– “don’t be ridiculous. He said the muffins were a thank you gift. I-I mean, we–we did watch Bond Mysteryman afterwards but that’s besides the point.”

“See? He _does_ love you!”

“We’re on to ‘love’ now?”

“Dipper, you know I love mystery shows as much as you do but Bond Mysteryman sucks butt. If Bill stayed for _that_ , then I know _for sure_ that he likes you.”

Dipper made an exaggerated huff, but could feel the corners of his lips being tugged up. “Hey, that show’s got depth.”

“Okay, keep dreaming, brobro. But my point is, Bill definitely likes you.”

Dipper bit his lip, feeling a shadow abruptly cloud over his mood. He tried to keep the bitterness out of his tone as he mumbled, “Well, if he likes me as much as you say, then why did he leave after I fell asleep?”

“What?”

“I-I fell asleep in the middle of the show. When I woke up this morning, he wasn’t there.”

“Oh, Dipper…” Mabel’s tone instantly turned sympathetic.

“Yeah, so maybe your theory isn’t so spot on after all, Mabel.”

“Okay, okay, let’s not talk about if he likes you, then. How do _you_ feel about _him?_ ”

Dipper hesitated in answering. How _did_ he feel about Bill? The whole day he’d spent strangling his thoughts and getting them into dead knots, but didn’t once stop to think about why he was so worked up over someone he’d only known for five days. It should be nothing, right? Maybe it was just because he didn’t have many friends in Gravity Falls. And Bill had been really nice so far. It wasn't his fault that spending time with him had such a tranquilizing effect. The blond was way too–

He stopped himself before he could get too far. The brunet forced his mind away from Bill. No matter what Stanford had told him that morning, no matter if being friends with Bill _did_ relieve a tubload of stress, continuing like this was just setting himself up for more disappointment.

With his best upbeat tone, he responded, “I mean, it’s not anything romantic, if that’s what you’re asking.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr // @corvusiel


End file.
